


Fallen Hearts Club

by PandaGod03



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Aged up characters, Angst, BillDip, Established Character Death(s), Fluff, Human Bill Cipher, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Rating will change, Support Group AU, basically the fault in our stars on drugs, but his sanity can scare off demons honestly, but it's mostly fluff I promise, past self-harm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-03
Updated: 2017-04-24
Packaged: 2018-09-06 06:58:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 40,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8739283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PandaGod03/pseuds/PandaGod03
Summary: Dipper Pines lost his twin, his best friend and other half, in a death he swore to himself he could've prevented. His heart went missing the day she died. And now he can barely trust his own self, might as well a person telling him they could put him back together. How could they, when every piece of himself was already gone?Bill Cipher lost his own pumping, useless organ when everything that could ever go wrong, went wrong. Another puppet to control wouldn't be too bad. But now he no longer became the puppeteer, but became the marionette, coaxing him to break himself further, to give every piece he could offer to the one holding the strings.Maybe they were just desperate, maybe they were reckless and stupid, but they wanted to try and find their love back in each other. Right here, in the Fallen Hearts Club.





	1. Do You Want to Be with Somebody like Me?

**Author's Note:**

> Dun dun dunnn. Here I am to present 'Fallen Hearts Club'! *finger guns*

**NAME/OTHER NAME PRESENTLY USED:** _Mason "Dipper" Pines_

 **SURNAME AND GIVEN NAME OF FIRST CONTACT:** _Pacifica Elise Northwest_

 **SURNAME AND GIVEN NAME OF EMERGENCY CONTACT:** _N/A_

 **DIAGNOSIS/TREATMENT:** _Clinical_ _depression and anxiety. Past history of bulimia and self-harm. Case of migraines and insomnia /_ _[prescription drugs given by doctor] Support group for an estimated six months._

 **AUTHORIZE THE ESTABLISHMENT:** _Trust Falls. Gravity Falls, Oregon._

 **COUNSELOR'S NOTES:** _See you this summer, Dipper!_

**PATIENT'S SIGNATURE:**

* * *

****That's everything his paper said, save for all his personal information, on the crumpled piece of shit smoothed out on his knee while his other leg jiggled like it was the end of the world. He kept clicking his pen, fingers drumming on his steering wheel while he looked down with a frown tugging at his lips. He had everything filled out on it, everything required of him before he was officially in the annual support group of the sleepy, messed up town of Gravity Falls.

He looked at it, frowning heavily at his "counselor's" notes. The whole thing was printed out, save for the chicken-scratch on the counselor section of the thing. Everything else, including his birthday, sex, eye color, hair color, age, allergies and everything in between was written in small print on the other stapled paper. He was to give all stapled information to his leader to confirm everything in it, then sign the very bottom for his consent to being placed in a six month long happy-go-lucky survivor's camp. After that, the trials begin, and he's not allowed to be pulled out at any given time unless his first contact gave a really convincing excuse. He was done for then- considering how Pacifica was the one who pretty much dragged him kicking and screaming out here.

It's not that he _wanted_ to be here. And he sure as hell knew he didn't need to be here either. But what was he going to do, spend the rest of his life locked up in an old dead tourist trap? Well, obviously that wasn't a bad choice, but...

"Way of payment," he snorted, grumbling the words under his breath, reading over the first paragraph of his personal (and it means _personal_ ) information to triple-check. "Through a rich Northwest girl, that's how."

If it wasn't all for Pacifica Elise Northwest, Dipper Pines would've never been stuck in this stupid, stupid support group. "It'll be fun!" she said. "It'll help in your recovery!" she also said. Well, Dipper could confirm wholeheartedly that this whole thing is one big fat Bullshit, with a capital B. Fine, he needed help, he'll give her that. But a support group? _A_ _support_ _group_? What the hell was she _thinking_?

Sighing deeply through his nose, Dipper leaned forward and scribbled in his initials.

After what happened, there was nothing else he could lose by this point.

Dipper folded the paper in half, stuffing it in his sweater's pocket. He left the pen in his car, an old timey-looking thing he inherited from his Grunkle Stan's will all those years ago. It only seemed like yesterday when the least of his worries were living up to his Great Uncles' expectations. Stan and Ford must be so disappointed in him now. For fuck's sake, he was the reason their favorite niece was dead. He was the sole and _only_ reason Mabel was the first one out of all of them to die, as harsh as that sounded. 

He didn't realize he was already walking towards the building of Trust Falls until he saw the door right in his face. Now only mildly surprised by his mind's wandering, Dipper pushed the door open, saying a brief hello to the old woman typing away at a large computer. This isn't the first time he's been here before, believe it or not. Dipper was here for his support group's introduction; to see if this kind of thing was worth his time and money, according to Pacifica. About thirty other people were in his circle. It wasn't too bad and now here he was.

Depression & Anxiety Help, Pacifica told him. That's what his support group was supposed to help him with. Pacifica had offered to send him to the suicide prevention group, but- well...Dipper knew going to a group like that would send him spiraling more into a relapse.

"Left wing, take two rights," the woman at the front reminded him. As if he'd forget from last time. "Mr. Blubs is already there with half your group."

Sheriff Blubs, or Mr. Blubs now, worked with Dipper's support circle. The old guy retired from his job to settle down with Deputy Durland (Now Mr. Durland-Blubs). After Weirdmageddon, Mr. Blubs thought he would keep serving his hometown and help out as a support group counselor.

And damn, after Weirdmageddon, Trust Falls was fuller than it ever was since the 1930s. Dipper was one of the main victims of it. He wasn't too affected.

It all started when Mabel ran away on their first summer here. Dipper had wanted to stay with his Great Uncle Ford to work as an assistant, but Mabel obviously didn't like being abandoned by her only twin brother. Dipper had tried to run after her, but he was too late. His sister had ran into a man, someone even the most Sherlock-like cops couldn't figure out. She struck a deal with him, and the guy set the whole forest in flames with a simple box of matches in Dipper's survival kit. 

First, a man-made wildfire (one that Mabel herself had blamed herself on for a couple years, until Dipper convinced her otherwise). Then the water tower burst after those forests went up in smoke, leaving everyone thirsty and delirious from the lack of water. After that, earthquakes, droughts, unbearable heat- needless to say, everyone had their own story to tell of that horrible week.

Thus, Trust Falls was revived. A support group center for all kinds of help, in which 97.5% of the town was attending. PTSD, fire trauma, depression, lung cancer, addiction, anger management- there were hundreds to choose from. And now, Dipper changed the 97.5% to 100%. He was pretty sure he was the only one not into a group. Pacifica and her family had their own wing to themselves.

The first thing Dipper heard when he entered the room for Depression & Anxiety was, "Well, well, well. Look at what the cat dragged in."

He looked up, smiling forcefully at Mr. Blubs. The man's hair was whiter than it was a year ago, taking over most of his already gray hair. A cup of steaming hot coffee was clutching in his hand, the other hand outstretched for Dipper to take while a jolly smile lit up his whole face. Dipper almost took a step back, still a little distorted from seeing his retired Sheriff Blubs without sunglasses and his iconic cop get-up. Eventually, Dipper had to get over himself.

"It's good to see you again, Mr. Blubs," Dipper said sincerely. _Even though you kinda were a jerk back then._

"And it's nice to see you too, Dipper!" Mr. Blubs answered joyfully. He swept a hand across the beige-colored room like a magician in their prime. "Come on, have a seat with your new peers! We'll start after I have my coffee break."

"Which would be in a pretty long time, huh?" Dipper joked.

Blubs laughed, his laugh bellowing and loud. It sounded too happy and joyful, the complete opposite of what just about everyone else was feeling in that room right now. In fact, everyone in the room were like walking zombies. Some hunched over the coffee machine, some chattered quietly in corners, some ate the cookies at the table with their jaws grinding them up ever so slowly. But most, really, were just sitting in chairs, awkwardly fiddling with their thumbs or looking at their shoes like they were the most interesting looking thing in the world.

Blubs ended up closing their conversation with patting Dipper hard on the back, almost fatherly and kindly if it wasn't for the fact that Dipper nearly choked on his own spit from the force of it. Police reflexes. "I like you already, Pines," Blubs commented, nodding his head thoughtfully, "keep it up. Maybe you can be out of here before you even know it with that kind of attitude!"

It was only when Blubs finally stalked off when Dipper muttered under his breath, "Not if I have a contract signed against my will."

As if the universe heard his snarky comments, Blubs and another nurse working in Trust Falls called for every person in the room to bring in their papers. Every head snapped up to look at them as they called for roll call, looking like no one had slept past the two hour mark. That included Dipper, not surprisingly enough.

Dipper had a black out for the next couple minutes. Nothing much happened, he could tell. He handed in his information, Blubs commanded them all to sit, they did as told with as much enthusiasm as an Egyptian mummy would have, and then silence. Complete and utter silence while their "leader" filed through their paperwork to make sure no one handed in a half-finished one. People fiddled with their thumbs and shirts, or sipping coffee with shaky hands, or mostly just staring off into space. No one talked to one another. 

When Dipper thought of a 'depression help group', he immediately thought of solemn young adults and teenagers around in a circle, the silence so depressing that it was like a pity party thrown for people with the worst lives in the world. And that was what being here felt like.

That, or because it was a depressing blue morning in itself. Hell, Dipper wouldn't be surprised if he found out everyone here was forced to attend by parents or loved ones that would take no for an answer. Really, the only one smiling and taking a seat with the most colorful sweater was Blubs.

"Alright, enough with the long faces," Blubs declared, rubbing his hands together like he was going to introduce the wildest idea known to man, "it's time we start, eh? How about we start with introducing ourselves? I'll go first! My name is Daryl Blubs, I'm married to Edwin Durland and I never could be happier. I like to golf and fish in my free time. Now, let's go around the circle."

Yippee, guess who was sitting right next to Blubs as he said that?

Every face in the room turned to look at Dipper, expectant and bored. Dipper's blood rose up the charts, feeling the heat come to his face in waves. Seeing his obvious discomfort, some of them gave an attempt at a small reassuring smile, but that did nothing but make his breath hitch even more. 

"I- I- um-" Dipper stammered. Why was he like this? It was just his name and his hobbies, for fuck's sake. Maybe even just his name and that would be it. So why did it feel like he was going to be swallowed whole by the ground?

"It's alright, Dipper," Blubs cooed, making a hand gesture for him to continue. Unlike every PG-13 high school movie to ever grace on the earth, no one made a sound and began to chatter about his insecurities. In fact, every face in the circle gave him looks of pity. They were all waiting for their turn and they hated that as much as Dipper did.

"Dipper Pines," Dipper blurted out. "My name is Dipper Pines. I-" _work at the Mystery Shack._ "No, no. Actually, I go-" _to college to get as much degrees as my great uncle has PhDs._ "I have two great-" _uncles that are traveling together on a boat called the Stan O' War II._

His throat closed up. As much as he wanted to say one useless fact about himself to finally sit through this whole thing without so much as a blink. But he can't. Because none of them were true.

Blubs frowned as he stammered on, his eyes glancing to the guy beside Dipper. "Okay, thank you, Dipper. How about you?" he said merrily. The question was directed to the one now talking and rambling about his two cats and godawful parents.

Dipper took a deep breath. He held it. Then released. 

He wrung his hands, dropping his head and avoiding eye contact. There was a reason why he didn't want to be here. Not today, not ever. But especially not today.

He had nightmares about her. Of Mabel blaming him for everything. For abandoning her.

* * *

 ****"-to bring the prettiest flower you see next time!" Blubs exclaimed, clasping his hands together.

He had just finished talking to them about what they would do the next time they came here, which was to bring a flower they see on the street on the way here and show it to the whole circle. As much as it sounded stupid to Dipper, everyone else bobbed their heads in sync. Some had already stood up, stretching and chattering up the people next to them. 

Now that the whole morning blues had passed with a bunch of yoga and ranting activities, no one in the room no longer looked like they walked out of King Tutankhamun's resting place. 

Dipper, on the other hand, bolted out of the room the moment Blubs had finished his sentence. He didn't wave or look at anyone else as he did so, his legs screaming at him to run faster and faster and faster. He wanted to go home, as childish as that sounded.

His throat felt like acid was poured down the pipes. His eyes felt wet and blurry to the point that blinking only made it worst. He couldn't breathe and he couldn't do anything about it. 

Stupid Pacifica. Stupid support group that does everything _but_ support. His first one and everything was already going wrong. Stupid him and...stupid Mabel...

He fished out his car keys from the depths called pockets, rubbing his nose unceremoniously in a way that would make Pacifica cringe back. He hated feeling like this. He should've gotten over it months upon _months_ ago but yet, here he was. Going to a support group that would help him get through life with support from his peers. He can't even do that right.

His car horn sounded in the distance, alerting him that it was ready to be pulled out of the parking lot to drive away to the comfort of his home. That thought comforted him a little bit, that he wouldn't be back here for another week. One week for him to compose and not make a fool of himself. Then maybe then he could stroll into the support group with shades and a hoodie, finger gunning the ladies with his charming good looks. 

Pfft. 

He looked down at his phone, watching the time turn from 10:32 to 10:33. The support group starts at 1:00 PM to 4:30 every Thursday, but since today was an opening day, it ran from 8:00 to 10:30 AM on a Saturday. The ones who still go to school get a free pass out of their classes just to be there, as support groups were deemed more important here than education ever could be. That was probably why everyone was so spaced-out but expectant today. They didn't want to be there, but it was better than any History class that could be thrown at them.

Dipper frowned, unlocking his phone to check his calling log. No calls from Pacifica yet.

He wiped his eyes to make sure there weren't any stray tears (there weren't), changing his walk to a jog to his car. He wasn't going to cry out of sadness, he knew that much. Remember that feeling when you get so angry at someone you feel like crying even though you were angry and not- well- _sad_? Yeah, that's what it's like for him right now. 

He didn't know who he was angry at, but he just...was.

Two and a half hours wasted. More hours and free time to be wasted if Pacifica kept pushing him to come again. He could've spent that time doing something else. He could've spent that time doing something more productive than going to a place that can't even _help him_!

His world turned sideways, literally, when Dipper didn't look fast enough to bump into someone that nearly knocked them _both_ down. His lips formed the word, "sorry". He wasn't hurt in any way, nor did he think the person he hit was hurt back. Dipper was a light kid, if anything bumping into someone trying to get into Trust Falls for their session was just a mild inconvenience to start the day.

It was only when Dipper realized that an empty coffee cup had stained the cement that he guessed that a mild inconvenience to him was a bigger one to this guy.

"Aw, you serious?!" the man snarled, hands coming down the front of his shirt and pants in disgust. They were stained an ugly brown, looking like it was smoking. That didn't bother this guy though- if anything, the ruined dress shirt and slacks was what was pissing him off. 

"I- I'm sorry, I didn't see you," Dipper said, licking his lips. He staggered to his feet, keeping his head down like a scolded puppy. He refused to sound like one at least, and kept his voice steady. Firm and stable. "If you want, I could pay for the shirt, it's probably only like eight dollars in-"

"Eight dollars?!" the man said incredulously. He barked out a laugh, one that sounded like a crossbreed between a psychopath and a hyena. Dipper tried not to cringe, eyes darting over the guy he literally bumped into. Blond hair, black suit, black pants, dress shoes. It was like this guy was on his way to a funeral than a support group.

"This costed me a _fortune_ , kid!" he screeched, pacing in front of Dipper like a lion in a cage. Dipper's muscles bunched up, as if they wanted to run before this guy pounced on him like dinner. His amber eye, the one that seemed to look golden in the direct sunlight hitting him like a halo, was flashing with different kinds of emotions. Anger and frustration, mostly. The other eye was covered by a white gauze- the ones doctors give you for a pulsing cut in your arm.

"Listen, I don't care who you are and what you're doing, but if I see you one more time, I can't guarantee you that you won't find yourself without a dead blood-gushing squirrel attached to your neck," he hissed. Yet somehow, the threat in his tone was almost nonexistent. It sounded jolly- _he_ sounded jolly. 

A psychopath dressed like he was going to a funeral. How fitting.

Dipper clenched his jaw. "Sir, I-"

"Don't 'sir' me, kid," the man barked out. He looked down at his spilled coffee, then back at Dipper. "Listen, I don't even drink coffee," he said slowly, "in fact, I hate it. I was going to give that to my friend. And you, sadly enough, will never have the privilege of me doing the same to you. What do you want me to tell my friend? That a reckless meat sack like you didn't care enough to look up? Wow!" Then he laughed, like everything was all a game to tease Dipper.

But Dipper kept his mouth shut, a loss for words. 

"What happened to you, did your mom drop you at birth and cut out your tongue with a pair of rusty scissors?" the man joked, his blows hitting Dipper lower than they were probably intended. "What, did she prefer your twin over you? Or did your twin die at birth because they didn't want to get around with _you_ in the way?" And he _laughed._ He laughed again like yes, Dipper had a twin and no, she didn't die at birth- and that was what made her death even fucking _worst._ And it went more than just worst when this guy, this- this stupid guy, thought saying Dipper had a dead twin was a joke. A joke!

"Look man, if you want money, I'll give it to you," Dipper said quietly. "I just need to go home."

"And do what? Contemplate how bad of a person you are?" The man only grinned. It was getting hard to tell if this guy was mad or just psychotic. "No need to! You already are! Oooh man, whoever has to put up with you for the past few years has the worst luck _ever_!"

Dipper took a step back. He wanted to be angry. He wanted to reel his fist back and left hook this guy until he was knocked out. He wanted to see red and more red until bystanders have to pull him away for beating this rude idiot senseless. All he did was bump into him. When people bump into others, they say sorry and "no problem!" and that would be the end of THAT!

So instead of screaming back at this man, instead of  punching the lights of him and walking away while people clapped him for being the bravest person they've ever seen; Dipper whimpered.

His bottom lip quivered and his eyes blurred with upcoming tears. His hands shook and his legs buckled underneath him. Every inch of his bottom showed a vulnerable side to him, a weak, feeble spot that this man happened to find in a matter of _minutes._  

And this psychotic, stylish asshole did nothing but stop talking, a blank look on his face. 

Dipper turned on his heel, and walked away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my God, this fic is going to be so self-indulged ;-;. Favorite song with favorite pairing with as much fluff and angst I could fit within less than thirty chapters. Also, psst- I'm taking creative liberties to what it's like for Dipper and Bill (and since Gravity Falls is a small town and quite strange and all) to be in a depression help support group. But if I get something major wrong, please tell me! I only have Google as my guide and my cousin ;-;;;;.
> 
> Anyway, hoped you enjoyed the first chapter! I'll update when I can (๑•̀ㅂ•́)و✧. And yes, the title is based off Lonely Hearts Club by Marina and the Diamonds. Every chapter will have a song lyric from her as well (because we're all trash).


	2. I Broke a Million Hearts Just for Fun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ta da! New chapter. A Bill chapter to ease the soul :D. Thanks to my friend, ThatOnePinoyKid, for beta reading! 
> 
> *sweating* Also I tried my best to make this far away from The Fault in Our Stars as possible. Just take this pieCE OF-

> **HABROMANIA**  (n.) _the delusions of happiness._

_Basically everyone on this stupid dimension._

* * *

****"I give up!" Bill threw his hands up in the air, pacing himself faster than his beloved, wonderful mentor. Eugh. He can't even say that to himself sarcastically without belching. "Kryptos, this is _useless._ " If he meant the journal or everything else in his life in general, he didn't know. Both can apply fairly well, honestly.

"It may seem useless at first, but you know it'll do more work than you ever can by going to that pub of yours," Kryptos said stubbornly, a lilt to his tone like watching Bill look so frustrated was the best thing he's seen all day. 

Bill lowered his head, just slightly, a scowl twisting his whole face. "You-"

He wagged a finger at Bill when he tried to toss the palm-sized journal into the sewer drain next to them, baring his buck teeth in a measly attempt to grin wickedly. "You don't do as I say and you'll be handcuffed next to me for so much longer," he pointed out, "both literally and figuratively."

It took everything within Bill's power not to strangle the poor guy. 

Instead, he took a deep breath through his nostrils, jutting out his chin like a king in waiting. Then he snapped the journal close, the tiny pencil (which was only about the size of his middle finger) stuck in between the first and second page, the only page he has yet to write in. "Five months with you," he muttered, shaking his head, "if anything, my sanity would just break even further."

"Aw, don't be such a buzzkill, Cipher," Kryptos teased. He casually fixed the bowler hat on his head, now matching Bill's fast pace with ease. "You're always the life of the party, you know that? Don't make this time any different because I'm here." Some folks looked over at them in curiosity as they walked down the street of Gravity Falls, both somehow busy and ghostly on this uneventful Thursday afternoon. They looked away, averting their eyes nervously, when Bill looked back at them with his cold, bright honeyed eye. 

"It's not you who's the problem," Bill said, bringing his calculating eye to the pavement in front of him. He hid the journal behind him, slapping it against his upper thigh in time to his thoughts, brows pulled low and mouth set in a thin line. The journal reminded him so much of the brown wearied leather of his old friend, marked by a golden six-fingered hand. That was partially the reason why he didn't want to do the "project" his helper had proposed.

"I would like to ask who it is then, but I have a feeling it's much less of a person but more of an event." Kryptos tipped his hat at a passing young lady, chuckling when she darted away. Swooned or disgusted, Bill didn't really know. Nor did he care.

Bill shook his head, bringing his head up to watch the folks of Gravity Falls pass by him with no more than a glance and the upgraded pace of their walk, everyone seeming to go in the other direction. "As much as I don't want to admit it, Kryptos, but the latter is the truth," he said distastefully, kicking a stroller with the back of his heel in which a young mother had been holding onto. The stroller nearly flipped over completely, only to be stopped by the startled mother and a stranger who howled in pain for having his foot being ran over by one of the wheels. Usually, he would have chuckled to himself, but now was not the time for dawdling. He simply did that to distract himself. To release...some steam, perhaps.

"Oho!" Kryptos chortled, turning to his friend with bright eyes shining in pleasured surprise. It would seem as if he was truly happy for Bill's breakthrough for finally having feelings, but truthfully, Bill knew the paycheck for having a patient be more participating would be much higher than a patient who did nothing but get worst over the years. "What did you do now, huh? Threw someone's baby in the river? Didn't pay for your food at Greasy's? Destroyed a little boy's dreams of getting first place in an arcade game?" he asked excitedly.

Bill wrinkled his nose in disgust, turning his head away. Kryptos's voice was enough to give him a migraine. He stopped slapping the journal against his thigh, his thoughts too wild for him to be distracted with such a thing. "No. No," Bill said casually, eye darting from one deformed rock on the ground to the next. "Something like that would make me more amused than anything else, you've seen me do it before, Kryptos. But this..."

He didn't realize he had slowed down until Kryptos was no longer panting by his side, sweating and begging him to slow down. Now Kryptos was right beside him with short strides of his own, waiting for Bill to collect his thoughts. 

Impatient for Bill's answers, Kryptos began talking again. "But what?" he demanded. "Bill, if you're feeling something else other than that psychotic happiness of yours, then you'd be having a breakthrough with your emotions. You-"

Bill waved that off with a dismissive hand. That idea was crazier than the whole ordeal with Kryptos and his journal. "You idiot," Bill said, putting two fingers on his chin to rub. He glanced at Kryptos with a frown. "I'm not feeling _guilty._ Or sad. Or- whatever the hell you're thinking right now. But more...intrigued..."

Kryptos only blinked at him. "Bill, I'm not getting what you're saying right now."

"Remember that kid I told you about? Why I couldn't bring your coffee?" Bill continued, leaving the last sentence on his tongue. _And how I had to tell him you were my_ friend _?_

"Uh- yeah. Yeah, o' course," Kryptos said, bobbing his head. "What about him?"

"Well, he hasn't left my mind since last week," Bill grunted.

Kryptos grinned at him suddenly, a new twinkle in his eyes that Bill couldn't decipher. "What?" Bill demanded. "Do I have something on my face? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"It sounds like Bill Cipher got someone on his mind, eh?" Kryptos teased. "And I feel like this isn't just the kind you're used to, Cipher. Less manipulation and more..." He trailed off, leaving Bill in suspense. Bill almost opened his mouth, demanding Kryptos to continue talking or else he'd decapitate the first person he saw. But then Bill realized that he was doing it on purpose, to lure him into asking and talking more about -ugh- _feelings._

And not just the kind he usually felt. Ones of anger and murder, mostly. But Kryptos must be thinking of-

Oh.

He resisted the urge to push his partner into the first person next to them. "Kryptos, are you sure you haven't drank anything on the way here?" he said, trying his best to keep the disgust out of his voice. Of all things, why do people like Kryptos always assume crushes were the first thing they think when they hear, "I met someone"?

"Oh come on, Cipher!" Kryptos groaned, wrapping his arm around Bill's shoulders. Bill didn't stiffen, or react for that matter. He was too tired about pretty much everything to do something about it. "Is that why you acted more like a zombie than a human being all week? At first I thought you were just sick of me, but-"

"No, I'm pretty sure I'm sick of you."

"- _damn,_ this is better than I thought it would be!" Kryptos exclaimed. "Who coulda knew?!"

"Look pal, old buddy," Bill said sarcastically, shrugging Kryptos's arm off him, "sorry for confusing you lately, but no need to give me that karma, alright? What the hell are you talking about?"

"Bill Cipher, you just found the jackpot for the both of us!" Then he laughed, _laughed_ joyfully like this was the most relieving news all week long. "If you finally pursue those emotions of yours, I'm- uh- _we're_ both outta here. My job is to make you feel things-" He poked Bill's chest, "-and your job is to try and do that. Man, you're such an anomaly the doctors couldn't even figure out what was wrong with that head of yours. But look! Nothing's even wrong! You're just a sapling in a row of trees!"

"Emotions?" Bill felt himself start to seethe. The only emotion he could really identify was anger. Mostly because he felt it so much. "Emotions?! You think I would have EMOTIONS? WELL NEWSFLASH, _PAL_ , THAT KID HAS _NOTHING_ ON ME. THERE IS NO WAY IN THIS DIMENSION WOULD I-"

Then he stopped himself dead. Not because people were starting to look. Or how Kryptos took exactly two steps away from him. Or because maybe hey, he did have emotions. But because- well- a con man would always seek new opportunities when presented. 

See, Kryptos was his mentor. His nurse of sorts. He was supposed to help Bill with his...problems. A little bit of a sensitive subject but it was true. The journal Kryptos had proposed was for him to write a definition of a rare but somehow common feeling they would pick out from the dictionary and his own description he got from his own experience right below it. Once a day, to get the hang of a problem no one can probably never fix. 

Kryptos didn't like his job. Neither did the others. Bill hated him. The feeling was pretty much mutual. The only way Kryptos can get out of it with a full paycheck was to help Bill overcome this problem. And what's the easiest way humans feel emotion?

Courtship. Dating. PDA.

Kryptos had thought the latter was happening with Bill. When really, Bill just wanted to mess with that kid more than he had with the others. It was so much more fun watching him cry versus the rest. He didn't want another mentor for as long as he lived, just so he could do those things freely without some scum watching his every move and asking five questions every seven minutes.

"Yeah," Bill said, the word bitter in his own mouth. He cleared his throat, doing his best to sound a little defeated. Defeated for having such a big secret come out to his only mentor. He avoided Kryptos's eyes but he could pretty much _feel_ the excitement radiate off that boy. He said "boy" only because Kryptos was a year and a half younger than him (which was stupid, considering Kryptos was supposed to be the wise old teacher).

"Holy poop on a stick," Kryptos breathed.

"L- listen," Bill continued, turning his head slightly to look at his partner. His voice quieted down, a hint of nervousness in his tone. "Kryp, you know I'm not good at this stuff," he said quietly, "I don't...I don't know what to do, Kryp."

Oh man, he hasn't seen Kryptos look so excited ever since they went drinking their first week together (in which Kryptos almost lost his job). Bill had to bite down on his tongue to keep himself from laughing.

"Well, you made him cry!" Kryptos exclaimed, half chidingly and half excitedly. "Please tell me you at _least_ got his name, Bill. C'mon, how you guys met sounds like the beginning of a coffee shop love novel. You need to take him on a date, like right now."

"But I don't!" Bill wailed melodramatically. He nearly cringed at himself. "How am I supposed to take the person who can't get off my stupid, stupid head on a date when I don't even know their _name_ or where they _are_!"

"Uh- uh- h- hold on," Kryptos stammered, the rusty gears in his head turning in overdrive for a solution. If all goes well, the first thought he'd get would be-

"Oh!" Kryptos snapped his fingers, stopping dead in front of a corner. Bill stopped with him. "You- you met him exactly on a Saturday morning, right? Last week?"

"Yep- I mean yeah," Bill said quickly. He covered up his chirpy response with a sniffle. Has he mentioned that he was an extremely good actor when it came to manipulating people? "I- I met him in a parking lot when he bumped into me. I split all my coffee and I already had a crappy day and I _just_ had to crap on him myself!" he whined.

"Don't worry, Bill," Kryptos grinned. He seemed to jump on his heels like a kid waiting in line for a roller coaster they were anticipating. "I just got it! See, they reopened the other support group in Trust Falls on Saturday. It was an opening day so they usually have them...wait for it.." He bounced up and down, as if waiting for Bill to jump with him. "...THURSDAY! LIKE TODAY!"

Bill blinked. Huh.

"So I can meet him today?" he asked, putting in a hopeful tone.

"Well duh!" Kryptos said. He put a hand on Bill's shoulder, grinning from ear to ear. It almost beat Bill's psychotic one by a long shot. "Here's the plan, Cipher. There's a flower shop near here- we're going to buy the biggest bouquet, my treat. Then you'll drive yourself to Trust Falls one hour early to catch that kid before his session starts. I'll leave the both of you alone to mingle, ya know what I'm saying? I'll grab myself a drink, you do you, and we'll meet back at Trust Falls with enough time for _your_ own personal session!"

"You really think that would work?" he asked with more hope. This time, it was half genuine. 

"Of course! Let's go, champ-"

"Don't call me that ever again if you wish to not have your limbs detached from your body."

"-and go to that flower shop over there, hmm? It'll take five minutes, tops, to find one with that famous face of yours."

This was the only time Bill let Kryptos wrap his arm around him to steer him somewhere. The first and only time, really. They walked a couple steps to get in front of a flower shop, entering it with the tiny bell signaling their arrival. 

Bill's posture straightened. He smiled. His eye brightened yet again. He tugged loosely on his bow tie. The signature look of a charismatic man named Bill Cipher. 

"I need flowers for apologizing," Bill barked. "The biggest bouquet you have of it."

When no one moved, he looked around the people staring at him. His eyes narrowed angrily, pinpointing an old man with a name tag on his green dirt-covered apron. He was holding up a pot of a plant, looking at Bill with a weird look on his face. 

"Well?!" he roared. "GET THEM FOR ME!"

The man gave him one last once-over, the recognition shadowing his face. Then he bolted, shoving the potted plant in a poor costumer's arms to please Bill Cipher.

* * *

 ****Kryptos told him that this kid was likely in the support group for depression. Depression and anxiety, to be more precise. Bill really wasn't that surprised. Because really _,_ that kid even _looked_ the part of a guy who spent his time clicking pens and breathing heavily before a presentation on climate change for his class. The thought made him laugh in the car.

With the time striking 12:50 PM exactly, Bill climbed out of his car, grabbing the large bouquet of roses and carnations. That idiot old man wanted to give him hyacinths, but the batch wasn't big enough when he specially said the _biggest._ This is why he couldn't trust anyone else but himself. He huffed, shutting the car door with a heel, putting the bouquet on top of his car to scout the area. An almost empty parking lot wasn't hard to find a twenty-something guy with brown hat hair and dirty flannel shirts that haven't been washed in months.

He frowned to himself. 

Perhaps the kid had already gone inside? 

He picked at his canine teeth with a toothpick from his car, resting an elbow on top of his fancy little car. A yellow Porsche, to be more specific. Usually women wouldn't mind the bright color if they hear that it was indeed a sports car. He wondered if that kid would be one of them.

His eye found a mop of brown hair.

Or brown hat. A mop of a moldy looking brown hat that looked like it belonged to a Russian aviator pilot. A lumberjack would work fine too.

Bill tilted his head slightly to the side, watching the hat bob up and down like the person wearing it was agreeing with something. He couldn't see the face, since an old looking car blocked his view. A red 1965 El Diablo convertible with a white rooftop. His eye burned into the hat, willing whoever it was to move out of the way of their disaster of a car to make sure.

As if he heard Bill's commands, the hat moved like a floating head, revealing the one and only guy Bill had been looking for. He was on the phone, talking rapidly with his face slightly red with anger. He kept clicking a pen, his flannel sporting a breast pocket with two other pens. 

Bill plastered a smile on his face, the ends of his cheeks hurting just a bit. He grabbed the bouquet of flowers on top of his own car and made his way over to his victim. And he shouted for him, shouting "Hey! Hey _you_!" over and over again.

The poor guy looked bewildered at first, at first not knowing where it was coming from. He spoke slowly on his phone this time, probably muttering a "I'll call you back". He pocketed his phone, looking around and behind him to make sure it wasn't directed right at him. 

Oh, but it was. 

The kid looked around one more time before he was face to face with Bill Cipher, a look of surprise coming over his face. Then as soon as the surprise had been put on his face, he scowled, a mix of disgust and confusion on his face. "How did you-?"

"Didja miss me?" Bill purred, bending down mockingly to look up slightly at this man. The brunet didn't look even slightly bit amused, even with Bill being this close to him. " _Ad_ mit it, you missed me!" he exclaimed, straightening his back again. He never should've done that anyway- they were basically the same height. Though it was hard to be sure when both of them kept squaring up to each other like kangaroos.

Again, before the brunet could even have a second to open his mouth to speak again, Bill presented the flowers from behind his back, grinning broadly and looking as proud as a gardener presenting their best work. "For you, darling," he drawled flirtatiously. The word 'darling' was as commonly used with him as  'hippopotomonstrosesquipedaliophobia' would be. He never used it, and when he did, it had to be for a good reason. This guy better felt special.

Confused and more confused now than ever, the man looked between the flowers and Bill, a look of calculation on his face. Like he was trying to decipher Bill's motives. Smart man.

Deciding to cut off the awkwardness between them, Bill flashed his teeth in an attempt at a friendly smile, saying, "My folks always told me to give flowers to people who I make cry. Unfortunately, that set of mind forced me to give flowers to _lots_ of people in my time."

 It was comical seeing this guy's face change so many times in the two sentences Bill had spoken. First, he looked touched in a way, like being given flowers was the best apology gift he could ever receive. Then Bill's second sentence rolled around, casual and teasing, that he scoffed in Bill's face, turning around on his heel without as much as a word. Bill lowered his flowers, the victory smile on his face turning sour.

"What got your intestines in a twist, huh?" Bill joked, following after him. "Did someone blend them together in your sleep?"

"Not interested," was the only thing the kid called after him.

"Funny, because I am," Bill guffawed. He picked up his pace, ghosting the brunet's shoulder before he turned on his heel, facing him yet again. It forced the brunet to stop walking, the annoyance on his face turning into slight frustration.

"Name," Bill said bluntly. "I need your name. And take these flowers. Then I'll leave you alone for now."

"Oh, you want my name?" he said sweetly. Bill nodded eagerly. "Oh, well okay. My name is _go eat shit and die._ " Then he tried to elbow past Bill.

But Bill was as stubborn, if not more, than he was. He grabbed the kid's shoulder (it was harder with flowers in his hand, alright?!) and did his best to keep him right where he was. But this stubborn brown-haired fine individual did nothing but writhe around, looking like he wanted to bite off Bill's hand. 

Knowing first hand that a person could go as far as doing that, Bill let go, his easy-going (at least he hoped it was easy-going) smile staying plastered on his face. "Aw, don't be like that," Bill said sadly, tilting his head, "I didn't even do anything to you. Is that how you treat other people? Where the heck did the manners your parents taught you go?"

The brunet _exploded_ on him, which was more than what Bill hoped for.

"Are you _kidding_ me?!" he asked in disbelief, laughing a little at the absurdity of the situation. "You were the one yelling at me the last time we freaking _met_! You made so much of a scene on a day that I didn't want to take it and you _pushed it_! You- you made me feel so-!"

"Weak? Feeble? Wimpy?" Bill hummed. "Oh, believe me, I know what it's like to feel that way. But hey, I was the only one saw those tears, so don't worry your little head. Now-"

While he spoke, the anger swimming in this kid's eyes kept growing and growing. Eventually, he elbowed past Bill so fast that Bill barely caught him, just in time for Bill to turn on his heel to watch this reckless stubborn brunet run in the other direction as fast as he can. Bill could tell his destination was the Trust Falls building, which was the right direction he was going in, at least.

The only problem was that they were so close to the edge of the building that he ran straight into a pine tree.

Bill burst out laughing, clutching his stomach so he wouldn't fall over himself and start rolling on the floor. He felt tears prickle at the corner of his eye, vision blurry. But even with the distorted vision, he couldn't help but laugh louder when the brunet looked around in confusion, clearly not getting the grasp in his situation. 

"Oh- oh _man_ ," Bill guffawed, laughing so loudly that idiot who had walked into the pine tree gave him dirty looks. "I know!" he exclaimed, snapping his fingers as his eyebrow raised high as if a light bulb had just gone off in his head. He choked out his last laugh, his bouquet hitting the floor. "I'll call ya Pine Tree! Ya know, because you walked into a _pine tree_!"

Pine Tree glowered at him even more, the red in his face darkening. From anger or embarrassment or the urge to strangle Bill, Bill had no idea but he loved it. "Why are you laughing at me?" he snapped.

"Why not? Don't you laugh when you're happy?" Bill chuckled. He fixed his bow tie, slapping his knee, before he stood up straight. He cleared his throat, grinning wildly. "See? I'm not laughing anymore. Happy yourself now, Pine Tree?"

"Don't call me that," Pine Tree groaned, rubbing the side of his head. He took off his lumberjack-looking hat, scratching at the greasy brown hair. He struggled to get up, looking like a truck had just smashed into his hip. 

"Well, if you don't want me to call you by a nickname, then you have to tell me your real one," Bill pointed out, pointing his finger at Pine Tree with a wink. 

Pine Tree looked down at the flowers by Bill's foot. Then looked at Bill in the face. He had a odd look on his own face, looking as if he was reminiscing the time they first bumped into each other. Bill wore the same outfit in a sense. A rolled up white dress shirt at the sleeves and charcoal black slacks. He looked like he was a pirate captain minus the fuzzy red hat and robe. Or you know, a suburban dad. On a good day, Bill would've worn something more...suitable. Get it? Suit? Suita-?

"Dipper." Pine Tree sighed through his nose, quirking an eyebrow at Bill as if in challenge. "My name is Dipper Pines. It's a nickname, if you haven't noticed. No one really uses my real name."

Bill felt his smile strain. Pines. "A pleasure," he said happily. "Name's Bill Cipher!"

He walked towards the poor kid, which wasn't that far away. Just a couple of long strides. He held out his hand in an attempt at a civil handshake. Thankfully, Dipper didn't refuse his handshake. He held out his, clasping Bill's and giving their hands one firm shake before pulling back like Bill had the Ebola virus. 

"So uh-" Dipper began, the awkwardness in the air already shifting in his favor. "Which support group do you go to? Anger management? PTSD? Mine starts in about-"

"Five minutes." Bill bobbed his head. "I know. In fact, if you want to get there before Blubs starts yelling at you, you should head there now!" he exclaimed.

"Uh, yeah, yeah," Dipper agreed. He still seemed weary around Bill. "But why...why did you...?"

"A curious guy, I see," Bill beamed. He picked at his bow tie, shifting it with two fingers. He raised his eyebrows, inclining his head. "What, are you going to ask me why I wanted to go ahead and meet you? Well, here's your answer; why the heck not!"

"Because people don't usually do that...?"

Bill laughed. "I like you!" Bill said matter-of-factly. "In fact, I like ya lots, kid!" Bill laughed again. "Quite persistent too! And fortunately for you-" Bill poked his side, "-you're exactly my type." 

Dipper's face shifted from mild confusion to anger, for the- what? Third time today?

"Your type?!" Dipper said angrily.

"My type!" Bill agreed happily.

Dipper threw his hands up in the air, leaning against the pine tree that he had hit. He looked about ready to collapse in a heap from Bill's bullshit. 

"No, but really-" Bill laughed, "-I find you interesting, Pine Tree! More interesting than anyone here in the town, actually. More helpful too!"

Dipper scowled. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing! Nothing at all!" Bill said. "Don't you want to get to know me before you go into that useless group?" Before he waited for a disappointing answer, Bill answered the question for him. "Of course you do! Everyone does. Like I said, I'm Bill Cipher. I own a buncha top hats and bow ties, I hate synthesized music, everyone I know has daddy issues, and I'm a millionaire!"

"You? A millionaire?" It was Dipper's turn to laugh. " I'll believe it when pigs fly," Dipper said sarcastically. 

"No, but really- I am. Cipher? Ever heard of the name? 'Breaking news, the Cipher family finally gave birth to their son, William Cipher'! No?" Bill grinned. "Well, since that doesn't ring a bell, lemme tell you more about me. I used to have a bunch of friends. All went down _screaming_ , woo, what a way to go out, amirite? Anyway, I'm twenty-eight. Orphaned since...well...twenty-eight. I'm five foot nine -apparently you are too!- and I use a cane to help me walk- no, just kidding! I use it to for funsies." Bill rounded on him, the smile on his face turning a tad bit seductive.

" _And_...I'm taking you out on a date on Tuesday," Bill purred. 

"How about no?" Dipper said distastefully.  

 "You're such a joy in a party, has anyone ever told you that?"

Dipper scowled. "Listen, man, I gotta go. Please don't ever talk to me again."

"Hold it, kid." Bill slid in front of him when Dipper tried to make his way back to Trust Falls. "That's enough about me," Bill laughed. "How 'bout you, Short Stack? What are you studying in college? You look the part to be in one."

Dipper grew quiet. "I quit," Dipper said, "just a while ago, actually."

Bill frowned. "If I wanted to know that, I would've asked. What did you study?" he said slowly.

He opened his mouth and closed it over and over again, like a fish. It went on for a while, before Dipper shook his head as if he was clearing his thoughts. "Nevermind," he said quickly, "if I ask you to tell you one more thing about you, you narcissistic-" He paused in the middle of his insults, deciding that insulting Bill would do him no good. "Would you leave me alone, even for one day?" he begged.

"Sure, why not?" Bill looked at him expectantly. "Questions, folks?" he asked dramatically.

Dipper looked like he was trying not to snort out loud. He pointed at Bill's other eye, the one Bill couldn't see through, and asked, "What's that for? How'd you hurt yourself?"

Bill touched his eye patch gingerly, feeling the warmth touch the tip of his fingers. Then he curled his hand, letting his arm drop to his side while he laughed. "Oh, this?" he laughed, "It's fake! I wanted a black, like the one pirates use, but now that wouldn't be believable to others that I may or may not have hurt myself in a scarring fight, huh? So I'm stuck with that!  Therapeutic reasons, mostly."

Dipper's face morphed into curiosity. He took a step towards Bill, inclining his head the way Bill had done. Copying him even if he didn't realize it. Bill sucked in a breath through his teeth when Dipper moved right in front of him, so close that he could feel Dipper's breath fanning his face. He forced himself not to take a step back.

"Oh. Then I won't feel bad if I do this," Dipper said. 

Bill frowned. "Do wha-?"

Dipper pulled back his eye patch and let it go. It was, after all, held by a stretchy rubber band. How Dipper knew that, Bill didn't know. Maybe it was just luck.

 A sting in his skull followed by a dull ache in his eye. Instead of howling with pain and bending over, Bill raised a hand over to his face, feeling for damage. Spoiler alert; there was none.

When the stars had faded and black had stopped dispersing, Bill blinked a few times and looked around. Dipper had left. In fact, Dipper Pines was now striding towards Trust Falls with a confidence a man in a depression and anxiety support group shouldn't have. 

As if he felt Bill staring into the back of his head, Dipper turned around. He smiled. "You're crushing my flowers, Bill."

Bill looked down at his feet, at the crushed flowers he didn't realize he had stomped all over. When he looked back up, he was watching just in time to see Dipper open the doors, and walk right in without another word. 

He stared at the building front for a moment. He just stared and stared, as if waiting for Dipper to come around and come back. Bill crossed his arms over his chest.

He pulled out his phone, dialed Kryptos's number, and kicked the flowers away from his foot. "Kryp," he said casually, knowing perfectly well his mentor liked it when he said Kryp instead of Kryptos. He needed to get on Kryptos's good side if he needed what he wanted to happen. "I want a favor from you."


	3. With an Angel Voice, Devil in Disguise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will die for Marina Diamandis, just s'you know and to put it out there. Anyway, enjoy this chapter ^-^. I feel like the route Bill and Dipper are taking here can be described with everyone's favorite trope; enemies to friends to lovers ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°).

**NAME/OTHER NAME PRESENTLY USED:** _Mason "Dipper" Pines_

 **SURNAME AND GIVEN NAME OF FIRST CONTACT:** _Pacifica Elise Northwest_

 **SURNAME AND GIVEN NAME OF EMERGENCY CONTACT:** _N/A_

 **DIAGNOSIS/TREATMENT:** _Clinical_ _depression and anxiety. Past history of bulimia and self-harm. Case of migraines and insomnia /_ _[prescription drugs given by doctor] Support group for an estimated six months._

 **AUTHORIZE THE ESTABLISHMENT:** _Trust Falls. Gravity Falls, Oregon._

 **COUNSELOR'S NOTES:** _Get ready for this week, Pines! That progress of yours is going along nicely. Keep it up with your partner and you'd be out before you know it!_

* * *

 ****Dipper threw his hands up in the air, shaking his head so fast that he was more than certain his head was fly off into the next state border. "I'm telling you, Pacifica!" he said through the phone, exasperated as _fuck,_ "He acted like he owned every major company in the world and more!" Then he thought back to the way That Guy grinned at him, and he scowled. "Throw in the universe if you have to."

In the other end of their phone call, his oh-so-wonderful long time friend Pacifica Elise Northwest laughed. Laughed like Dipper was overthinking everything as always. "Aw, come on, Dip," she cooed, "it couldn't be _that_ bad. I think it's sweet."

"Sweet?!" Dipper screeched, horrified. He swept past a tall pole a split second before he hit it. "Are you _listening_ to me? That- that half chewed soggy crayon-!"

"-asked you out on a date and you rudely pulled back his eye patch used for therapeutic reasons and walked away as a result instead of saying no," Pacifica said bluntly. "Come on, Dipper! You're so much better than that! In fact, you haven't had a date since what, one and a half years from today? You need someone to take your mind off things."

Dipper tried not to mock her tone, instead choosing to chew on his bottom lip painfully to keep himself from ranting even more to his only close friend. He powered through the parking lot of Trust Falls, quickening his pace with every step to get into the building as soon as possible. The last thing he wanted was to encounter That Guy again like another sign from the heavens that he deserved every piece of bird shit that came onto his head. He didn't talk for a while, but he knew he didn't have to anyway. Pacifica was used to his sudden quiet moments of thinking while they talked over the phone over their first world problems like this. 

"Yeah, I need someone to take my mind off this stupid program you put me through," he decided to say passive-aggressively, "but _That Guy_ does way too good of a job of doing that."

Pacifica giggled. "You're making it sound like you're into him, Dip."

"I can assure you that I'm _not,_ " he snapped, "in fact, if I could, I wouldn't want anything to do with him, ever. _Ever._ " He walked through the doors of Trust Falls without any snazzy blonds in sight.

"So why are you talking to me about him if you want to forget Mister I-tried-apologizing-like-a-gentleman-yet-I-got-a-very-rude-no-in-return?"

"Because I don't know, Pacifica!" Dipper threw his hands up in the air, leaving the phone to wedge in between the crook of his neck and shoulder. Someone turned to look at him weirdly, only looking away when Dipper made eye contact. "I mean, part of me feels like that was just a one day thing, you know? Like it's never going to happen again but...the other eighty percent feels like _That Guy_ is going to come back and ruin everything for me all over again."

"And do what, exactly?" Pacifica asked him. "The most dangerous thing he could do to you is ask you out again, Dipper. In that case, if he does, just say yes. I mean- hey, that's what I do when a creep asks me out over and over. Give him what he wants then leave it. Or you know, hire a hitman."

"I don't have a job and I'm living off money from my Grunkles' birthday cash which is used for instant noodles and electricity bills," Dipper said slowly, "hiring a hitman was my first choice, believe me, but not everyone can afford the finer things in life, Paz."

"Ugh, peasant lifestyles," Pacifica said in slight disgust. Meanwhile, Dipper nodded his head to the woman typing away on a computer in the main lobby. He took the same turn he did for the past two weeks, letting Pacifica ramble on for once. "Listen Dipper, if it really bothers you, I could hire a bodyguard to walk you around Trust Falls for the next six months. No big deal. Besides, whoever that guy was, he probably just did it to get a reaction out of you. I mean, no offense, but your reactions to everything are comedy _gold,_ Dip. He'll go away once he figures out that you're not worth bothering anymore."

"Wow, thanks," Dipper said semi-sarcastically. "My support group starts in like, five minutes. I'm already walking to the door. I'll come over and eat some ravioli with you while we watch another rom-com or something after it. Sounds good?"

"Yeah-huh," Pacifica agreed. "I have to go to my spa appointment anyway. Text me when you finish, then I'll call one of my butlers to pick you up so you don't have to walk like a commoner again. Say hello to That Guy if you see him for me! Muah!" Then she cut off their line.

Dipper sighed, massaging the bridge of his nose. Then he pocketed his phone, wondering what got Pacifica in such a good mood throughout their whole conversation about Dipper's newest creep. The wonder only lasted a short while.

He opened the doors to his support group room, being greeted with the familiar sounds of chatter and the coffee machine running. Blubs told them last week that the next time they came in, all they had to do was find their table and take a seat. Chat up their partner, get started, goof off, it didn't really matter. As long as they got the project done by the next week they came by, Blubs didn't care what they did all day with their assigned project.

What was it? Making a children's book. With a nice story line and illustrations. It wasn't hard, really. Dipper had written thirty paged English papers during a stressful all-nighter in the past, making silly cut outs of marshmallows and writing down three worded sentences were nothing.

Dipper scanned the rows upon rows of bright red and yellow tables, squinting at the numbers on laminated papers. Thirty one, thirty seven, thirty nine. His number was forty two. Blubs did a terrible job organizing all of these tables (i.e. how every damn table was out of order), but Dipper couldn't complain, could he? His room hasn't been cleaned since the dawn of times. 

His nose sniffed out the sudden smell of strong coffee beans. His ears picked out the deep laughter of a certain ex cop and the dropped whispers of his fellow group members. Everyone in the room sat in their respective tables like orderly students, either completely silent or not being able to shut their mouths about the latest camping trip they went with their family to their new partner next to them. Dipper felt numbing heat prick at the back of his neck. He was the only one left standing and walking around like a dazed hospital patient. _Goddamn it,_ he cursed internally, followed by cursed words that would make Stan Pines whistle in approval. 

"Dipper?" Blubs said. "You need some help by any chance, or would you like to waltz around the room like my grandma at the grocery store?"

That made everyone in the room laugh. Dipper, on the other hand, nearly hung his head, if he hadn't been doing that already to find his spot. He still can't find his stupid table and his partner. Every single table seemed full. And every single table seemed to be looking down at him. He felt his lungs crush together, squeezing the last breath out of him. For a depression and anxiety group, this place seemed to be the only reason why his anxiety was reaching sky limits.

"Okay, okay," Blubs chuckled, waving his coffee cup in the air like a magical wand that would shush everyone instantly. "Pines, what's your table number? We need to get you seated before we could start, you know."

"I know," Dipper said. "I'm forty two. But uh-"

"Oh, forty two? It's right there!" Blubs interrupted, pointing his coffee cup once more to point at the farthest table from where he was. It was in the very corner too. Dipper tried to stand on his toes to look over peoples' heads to see the ones there, but it was to no avail. So he said a rather empty thank you and made his way over, ignoring the looks he could from people on the way there.

The more he walked closer, the more people he saw sitting at his table. Every table had at least eight people, four partners in total (that being the person next to you). He only saw six, making him the seventh. Huh.

Meanwhile, while Dipper sat himself down on the only unoccupied chair and set down his backpack to take out his art supplies, Blubs began explaining what they had to do. It was a review from what they discussed from yesterday, but in much more detail. Dipper only paid half of his attention to his group leader, knowing perfectly well he'd nail this project faster than pretty much everyone in this room. Construction paper, paint or Plasticine, sentences written in sharpie, and most importantly, as Blubs kept emphasizing throughout his little speech; _have fun._ The last instruction was the only thing Dipper wasn't going to accomplish, but he can certainly fake it. This was quite literally a fourth grade project. 

"And in the end, we'll go to a school across the street next week or the week after that in case we can't get this done by then. We'll present it with our partners to the fourth graders, since they'd be starting a project just like this in their own classrooms," Blubs announced quite proudly. Yep. Fourth grade project.

"Now," Blubs said excitedly, "you all ready? You have the rest of the session today- let's get cookin'!"

Dipper's head snapped up, eyes wide and the question stuck on his tongue. But suddenly the room busted in chatter, partners turned to each other to talk about this project seriously or just to waste time gossiping about the newest scandal in town. Dipper turned his neck ninety degrees next to him, desperate and a little frustrated. Despite knowing that his lateness would mean the six other people would've already found their partner, Dipper peered desperately into the mess of his table group. They were all too deep in conversations with the person next to them to notice Dipper's growing frustration.

 _Fine,_ he thought in annoyance. _I'll just work by myself. I'd rather do it by myself than work with a partner anyway._

Which, by the way, was the second most biggest lie he ever told himself. Because, well...children's books were Mabel's thing. In fact, Dipper never wrote any type of book without her input. He basically did _everything_ with a partner. And Mabel wasn't here. She'd never be here anymore. Dipper was alone. He swallowed the sudden lump in his throat, clenching his fists tight until he felt his palms prickle with the sharpness of his nails. He was alone, he was alone, he was _alone_ , he was-

"Hey, man," the kid next to him spoke up. Dipper looked over at him in surprise. It was a teenaged boy, his hair a little long and his nose pierced with a silver stud. It reminded Dipper much of his childhood rival, Robbie. This kid seemed much nicer though. "Are you going to work alone on this?" he asked curiously, the slight edge of concern taking on to his voice. 

"It seems like it," Dipper said casually, doing his best to keep the annoyance from showing up

The guy just frowned. "But Blubs said-"

"I know what he said," Dipper interrupted, not rudely but not kindly either. He shrugged, the motion of it rigid and unnatural. He didn't need this teenager's input of a very obvious situation. "I'll just deal with it. Working alone seems better to me, anyway."

"Okay," the kid said. Before turning back to his friend next to him, he added, "You should talk to Blubs either way, man. After he talks to that business man."

"Business man?" As soon as the words left his mouth, Dipper grew rigid. There was only one looking business man in Gravity Falls other than the Northwests (and the Northwests would never, ever visit here). His blood ran cold. The teenager, oblivious to his sudden realization, flashed him the thumbs up and turned right around to start cutting out paper cut outs. Dipper, his mind racing with pleas and mantras of _no no no this isn't happening no no,_ turned to the front of the room, where he last saw Blubs.

And he saw Blubs, alright. Along with a certain well-dressed blond-haired psychotic asshole, who smiled politely and widely at Dipper's group leader.

If Dipper didn't think the world hated him now, the conclusion had been smacked across his face right at that moment.

Blubs laughed at what Bill had said, toasting him with the coffee cup in his hand. He spoke to Bill animatedly, waving his hands around for exaggeration. Bill nodded along, laughing when it was appropriate. Though Dipper couldn't hear what their laughter and chatter from where he was, he could certainly envision Bill's laugh, and all of that just made his blood coil. _Don't be my missing partner,_ Dipper begged, _for the love of everything above, don't be my missing partner._

Begging for such a wish was a waste, anyway. Dipper was the only person without someone to help him with this project and Bill seemed exactly like the guy to be late on purpose or not for something as dampening as a support group. Dipper's hopes were crushed even more when Bill turned to look at him, and flashed him with a wicked grin that would have him burned at the stake if he were alive during the witch era.

Dipper had been going to this support group for a while now and not once had Blubs mentioned people registering in the middle of the season, unless they were truly desperate. Bill, Dipper knew, was _exactly_ the person who would want to spite someone so much that they would beg to be let in here. To annoy _him_ specifically. 

Bill bid Blubs goodbye, a professional handshake as his way of impressing the support group leader. Dipper watched all of this unfold as if it were in slow motion, the beat of his heart in his ears. His loathing for this man grew with each step Bill took towards him, and multiplied the more Bill stayed smiling. 

When Bill had finally reached the back of the room, he took his precious time to find an empty chair. He slid across the room noisily, the screech of the legs covered by the even louder noise in the room. But the screech of it was all Dipper heard as Bill sat down right next to him, uncomfortably close.

"Feeling fine, Pine Tree?" Bill drawled. "You look awfully pale."

At that moment, Dipper snapped the charcoal stick in his hands. Bill looked down at what he did, and the smile on his face only grew, if that was humanly possible. Dipper wanted nothing more than to smack him right across the face. Preferably to make sure Bill never smiles at him like that again.

"Bill, you're on my hit list," he heard himself said out loud. 

"I'm on everyone's, what's your point?" Bill asked him merrily.

"Why. Are. You. _Here_?" Dipper hissed.

"To get better." Bill shrugged. "You're not the only one in the world messed up in the head, Pine Tree. I think I deserve an award for the most messed up one, actually! Ahahaha!"

"But you're not even-" Dipper sputtered.

"I belong to another group," Bill said. He leaned back in his chair, fixing the cuff on his wrist like wearing a suit to a place like this was a common thing. And considering his words, it probably was. "It's not, ah, what's the word? Working well for me. I told them it might help if I come here instead, and they agreed! Can you believe that?"

"Sure I can," Dipper said distastefully. He shook his head, feeling the boil in his blood going down slowly. He took up another charcoal stick, rolling another one in Bill's direction right next to him. "If you can't draw very well, cut out some squares for me," Dipper said again, ignoring the fact that Bill Cipher was now full on grinning at him. Just like he was at that parking lot that day. If he had to choose between saving Bill and his half eaten apple from his lunch break, Dipper would gladly eat the rest of the apple.

"Come on," Bill suddenly groaned. He ignored the charcoal that was rolled over to him, instead taking up a pair of left handed scissors that were brightly colored green. He started cutting out squares as he was told as he said, "Don't ignore me like that. I'm your partner!"

"I'll do as I please," Dipper answered sassily. He felt proud that for once in his life he didn't sound even a little bit pathetic. That was the only good thing about meeting Bill, probably.

Bill snickered, cutting out the first piece of a square successfully. "Well, Pine Tree-"

"Bill, I am honestly _this_ close to snapping off your head right now," Dipper suddenly snapped, turning to look at Bill with his forefinger and thumb mushed together like a couple at the movie theater. 

Bill quirked an eyebrow. "They're touching."

"Exactly."

At that, Bill only smiled. Not his shit eating grin he usually wore around Dipper, but the kind of smile that had the words _you're a little piece of shit but I'm a bigger one_ laced in it. "Why are you so against me being here, hmm? I literally just got here," he said, the fake innocence dripping from his voice like acid. 

"Yeah, but you're also the guy who stopped me at the parking lot," Dipper said bluntly.

" _Sweet Moses_ , Pine Tree," Bill replied mockingly, "I didn't try and murder you or anything- can't ya take an apology from someone?" He followed that up with his obnoxious laugh.

Dipper felt bad for his dentist. With how much he was grinding them together, there was no doubt his next visit to the orthodontist would be filled with tongue clicking and lectures about keeping his teeth healthy. "Why are you following me?" Dipper said quietly, the softness of it so small that Dipper thought he was the only one who could determine the hostility in it. 

"I love the confidence, Pine Tree," Bill drawled, "but honestly, do you think I'd be that willing to follow _you_?" And he laughed _again._

Dipper felt the heat spread across his face. Lately, the heat was from the anger he was trying to take out on Bill. Now it was a mixture of embarrassment and exactly that. Maybe enough heat could be generated enough for fire to douse Bill in.

 "Just answer me," Dipper said calmly.

Bill only shrugged. He passed four equal squares of construction paper to Dipper, mildly surprising him in the process. But Dipper refused to let that show on his now blank face. "You're...interesting," he decided to say carefully. "I saw it when I bumped into you the first time we met."

"Interesting how?" Dipper pushed. And since he felt slightly guilty that Bill was doing more work compared to him, Dipper began shading in some mountains with his charcoal.

Instead of answering, Bill looked down at the slopes Dipper made lightly. "Don't you think we need way more color than the inevitable darkness of black for a children's book?" Bill asked, dodging Dipper's question completely. "In fact, I don't you've even told me what kind of story we're writing and drawing for, Pine Tree."

"I'll tell you when you deserve it," Dipper said sarcastically. "Now answer me. You can't just say some X-Men shit like that and expect me not to question you."

Bill laughed. And oddly, it sounded genuine. "Put it this way," Bill said lazily, waving his hand in the air just as slothfully. "There are two different kinds of people on this world. The ones who have the coal, and the ones that have the fire. I'm a flame; forever scarring and interesting people, but not enough for them to get too close. And you, my dear Pine Tree, are the coals. Sad, dark, and useless."

His eye seemed to smile, rather than his lips. 

"Unless, of course, a flame was there to ignite you. Most fires have tried to that exactly that to you, Pine Tree, but they've failed. Either you blew them off or, generally, there was too little of you left for them to stay for a long time."

"Where are you trying to get at, Cipher?" Dipper asked him. He met Bill's eyes, and kept them there. They stared at each other down. Not competitively, but not warmly either. Bill's bright eye was brighter than Dipper ever saw them- or they always were, and Dipper was too unconcerned to see them. The patch that Dipper pulled back that day was now folded into a white, woolly triangle. It may look ridiculous to most, sinister to some, but it looked just _right_ on this psychopath's face. 

"See, you may not think this now, Pines," Bill continued, tilting his head curiously to the side. His voice oozed delight. "But I'm the only one that can kindle you. In the best of ways or the worst."

It sent a shiver through Dipper's own skin.


	4. I'm Now Becoming My Own Self-Fulfilled Prophecy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This seems like filler, but no chapter of mine will ever be filler, I promise lol.

> **ACATALEPSY** (n.) _the impossibility of comprehending the universe. Thinking that human knowledge will never have true certainty._

_The only problem is that human knowledge won't ever have true certainty- so how may this be a proposed "thought", rather than what everyone should know by now?_

* * *

****Bill's day started with a dumb fox.

Or wolf. Coyote? He didn't know what the heck the animal was and he didn't care. All he knew was; _I'm staring at a predator in the middle of the woods with no context as to why and how I got here, whatsoever. Wonderful._

Now, he wasn't stupid. Even the most psychotic people living on this earth would know to back off when faced head on with a three meter long animal that looked like it ate whole goats for breakfast. Reddish brown fur matted down by mud and hackles raised in anticipation- Bill almost felt bad for the thing. Ya know, ya know, if he didn't feel bad for himself first. 

His back scratched at the wood behind him, damp and cool even through his sweat covered shirt. His black silky pants were torn to shreds, his feet bare with blisters and bruises. He looked like he just got drunk from a house party and went straight to Gravity Falls' abandoned woods. Which, knowing his own tendency to get extremely drunk during those circumstances, wasn't impossible. But hulking dogs with saliva-dripping teeth were impossible here in Oregon too, weren't they?

Bill pursed his lips, subtly pressing his back closer to the tree behind him despite knowing his back was smashed against it. The thing got nearer, its mouth twitching. Bill could've sworn he could hear the growl from deep within its throat, even though it was a good few ten meters away. Running could be an option, he knew, but outrunning that? Yeah, good luck. 

The mutt gave him an unrelenting stare, its dark orbs seeming as if it were looking into every single thing that ran through Bill's mind. A sensible lad would be pissing his pants right now, saying his prayers and whimpering to their mommy to save them. But not him. Instead he sat there, frozen, staring back at this hungry animal with the same intensity. 

He felt like he should know that dog. That coyote, he corrected himself. The coyote looked familiar. Very familiar. 

The sky above him turned a horrible red. The clouds disappeared into nothing but streaks at an interval, an X right above the coyote and him. The sky looked like it was shimmering, as if they were in a crystal ball for some immortal's plaything. Rubies and purple swirls and green slime- everything and anything could describe the air above him. It was terrifyingly beautiful, like a painting right out of a thriller novelist's mind. 

No, it was not beautiful. They were not in a crystal ball. Gravity Falls was on _fire._

Bill felt the panic in him before his body did. No. No, this can't be real. That was- that was years ago. It was impossible, _this_ was impossible, he didn't-

The coyote sat on its behind, throwing its back in a mournful howl, right in front of Bill.

"Don't you dare!" Bill snapped. He didn't understand why he suddenly felt defensive. "No, no- stop it! You _idiot,_ do you _want_ to rat us out?!" His throat closed up. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't seem to stand up, or move for that matter. He just sat there, frozen in time as the sky turned darker and darker to the consequences of their actions. The coyote and a sky straight from everyone's nightmares. This wasn't real.

"Bill!" a hoarse voice called. "BILL!" Whoever the voice belonged to sounded like they were close to broken tears. 

Bill felt his heart sink to his stomach. The coyote had stopped howling, instead staring back at Bill with the same intensity as before. But now it had its head tilted slightly to the side, as if in question. For some reason, Bill knew that if this animal had the talent and ways of showing it, it would most definitely be smiling. Grinning.

Then the coyote bowed, right there. As it did, the air thickened with the smell of ashes and heavy smoke, but Bill seemed immune. When it rose, its head held high with a gracefulness of royalty, a single thing seemed to bridge Bill and this animal. 

A single crushed blue hat, the ones that used to be sold at the world famous Mystery Shack. A pine tree symbol was right in the dead middle. 

When Bill looked up, the sky was a morning blue, the coyote was gone, and the hat was too. 

* * *

 ****"Bill," a voice groaned. Pounding accompanied the disgruntled voice. "Bill freaking Cipherrrrr- get uuuuuup!"

Bill only groaned, groggily turning to the other side on his bed while he threw his blanket right back over him. Sunlight filtered in between the broken lines of his blinds, only adding to his discomfort of what they all called 'mornings'. "I don't have to get up. Ever," Bill mumbled, "I am the lord of Wonderland. Sleep bows to me and only me, as I am Bill Cipher-"

"Bill, get. _Up._ " The voice was tight, like a mother on her last straw. Bill mentally rolled his eyes. He was used to this as an eight year old boy was to their own mothers. "If you don't open this door, ready to go out and smiling, you're going to be in big trouble," Kryptos threatened, his voice low. 

"Oh, I'm _so_ scared. Take me away and spank me- I've been a naughty boy!" Bill called back sarcastically. 

Kryptos grumbled, something about having to do this everyday, before the sounds of keys jingling in a keyhole was what filled the silence. He managed to open it with no complications (meaning no blackmail of Kryptos falling face first in a pile of horse shit strategically placed, unfortunately). "How is it that you can stay up for forty-seven hours at a time, no difficulties, but staying up for more than twelve hours on a Thursday for you is _hell_?" Kryptos said, sounding in disbelief. 

A few steps in, and Kryptos's voice sounded closer. He clicked his tongue. "By heavens, Cipher," he said in disapproval, "you even managed to fall asleep on the damn _couch._ "

"It's comfy," Bill answered simply. He refused to turn around and open his eyes. Instead, he snuggled closer in his blanket. Truthfully, he got seven new bruises trying to walk up the stairs while he was tipsy as hell. 

"Spent the night drinking, huh?" Kryptos asked him. He didn't wait for an answer before he scolded, "I _told_ you to bring me to the bar so I could get you to bed safely! Do you want to know how much shit I'm gonna get from the big boss if he found out I let you out drinking alone?"

"I wasn't alone," Bill slurred, his words sounding jumbled together. His voice was muted against his couch. "I went with friends."

"As if you _have_ friends!" Kryptos exclaimed in annoyance. "C'mon, get up- we have to go."

"No."

"No? Whaddya mean, no?" Kryptos blew air out of his nostrils like an angry bull. Bill buried his head further into the couch to hide his grin. Man, he loved playing with his mentor. He wondered how long he could keep this up before Kryptos could finally leave him alone. "Bill, you need to go out and socialize. And I mean _socialize_ not drink until you pass out drunk in some hot chick's bedroom."

"How am I supposed to do that?" Bill groaned. He turned around to face Kryptos, owlishly opening his eyes. Usually, socializing in Kryptos's book was close to something like going to an amusement park. While that wasn't his thing, exactly, Bill did like setting empty baby strollers on fire and letting screws loose to scare half the living soul out of everyone around him. Kryptos couldn't rat him out unless he wanted to be fired. Thus, he let Bill do whatever he wanted as long as he was around actual human beings and he didn't put them into _too_ much danger.

"Let's go shopping for some new waistcoats for you or something," Kryptos grunted. "Big boss is getting impatient, you know. He hasn't seen a single thing change about you since your last caretaker."

"There isn't thing about me you _could_ change, dear Kryptos," Bill said. He stretched his arms over his head, yawning. His headache was split right down the middle, as it usually was. It'll go away after he took a nice hot shower. "As long as you pay for my things, I think an hour of shopping could do me some good."

"What's this?"

Bill snorted. "Just because I said yes, it doesn't mean you have to be tripping over your feet, Meatsack."

"No, I mean- this." Kryptos pointed to the things scattered messily over Bill's coffee table. Usually, the table would be covered in old rotting salmon from last week's lunch and red stains. Now, not a single part of the table could be shown above the mountains upon mountains of colored construction paper, left handed scissors, and a giant dictionary sized book. 

"Oh, that," Bill said distastefully. For a moment, he pondered on whether or not he should say a lie, just to watch Kryptos show his gullible side all over again. But instead he chose the truth, since tormenting his poor nurse didn't feel as pleasurable as it was on other days. "Pine Tree forced me to take home our project to finish since we couldn't finish it last time. Wasn't my fault I set the original storybook on fire!"

Kryptos snickered, picking up the new storybook from the pile. He looked at it sideways, then upside down. Then he put it down, commenting, "It looks...pretty sadistic and bloody for a children's book, don't you think?" But his eyes just really said, "It looks like you put in 30 percent effort into this. That's thirty percent more effort you'd put into _anything._ "

"Children need new genre of books to read, don't you think?"

"Whatever you say," Kryptos shrugged. "Get dressed. I'll be outside playing with my Rubik's Cube, I guess." Seeing Bill suddenly grin and light up, Kryptos warned, "If you take any longer than fifteen minutes, I'll assume you ditched me and I'll take away your red wine privileges for a week."

Bill scowled at him. "Jeez, fine. Wasn't like I was going to abandon you in the first place. Bad enough that you don't trust me!" 

Kryptos raised an eyebrow. Instead of saying anything, he took out a Rubik's Cube from his pocket and turned around, already fiddling with one of the sides as he barreled out of the room, completely focused. 

Then Bill's mind sharpened. His grogginess had cleared up and the headache was reduced to nothing but a dull ache if he turned his head too fast. "Kryp, wait."

Kryptos, startled by the nickname, nearly dropped his puzzle toy. He caught it mid-air, turning around to face Bill with a _well?_ expression. Bill could tell he was trying to look cool and undisturbed, but the guy's face was lit with mischief. Bill only used his shortened version of a name when he wanted something. Bill Cipher actually wanting something bad enough to ask a human being was an achievement in itself. 

"Do you...have dreams?" Bill asked him awkwardly.

"Of course I do. Everyone does," Kryptos snorted. Then what he said hit him right in the face, and Kryptos went bug-eyed. "I- that's not what I-"

"Do you dream about that night?" Bill demanded, his voice tight.

Kryptos's face turned from horror to confusion. Then back to horror. "From time to time, I'm pretty sure everyone in Gravity Falls does, Mr. Cipher," he said softly. His voice was tinged with fear. "But-"

"And how about coyotes? Who used to buy the merchandise from the old Mystery Shack in this town?"

"Loads of people dream about different animals, Bill. And I'm pretty sure everyone in the state had bought something from Soos."

"No, not him. The old guy. The dead one. At least I think he's dead." Bill paused, thinking hard. Then he said, "Stan. Stan Pines. The first Mystery Shack with the pine tree hats."

"Bill, why are you asking me-?" Then Kryptos's face shifted into excitement, just like that. How people could shift from one completely unrelated emotion to the next was beyond Bill. Maybe he did it too sometimes. "Hooooly cow. Have you been... _dreaming_?" Kryptos asked it like Bill was suggesting he finally knew the answer to the universe's secrets. Hushed but excited.

"Me? Sure, Meatsack." Bill heaved a dry laugh. "I can't dream. But if I did, I'd be in yours to torture you even outside of your work!"

Kryptos gave him a once-over, as if determining if he was lying or not. But Bill only smiled back at him, the same smile he gave to everyone he tries to convince. It fooled everyone, and it definitely fooled Kryptos. His caretaker told him to go upstairs and take a shower before the whole house would smell like booze, and he came back to his Rubik's Cube without as much as a frown at Bill.

* * *

 ****"Waistcoats," Bill mumbled under his breath, "under _fifty dollars._ They're lucky I haven't strangled them to death yet. Look at the lining, look at it."

"Bill, you're overreacting," Kryptos begged. "I only live on minimum wage, I can't afford to buy you-"

"Then why offer to buy me things in the first place?" Bill snapped. "You know fully well I could buy them for myself. And we're certainly not on a date. But you just _had_ to go and take me to a sorry excuse of an orphanage of _clothing,_ " he hissed. Just thinking about the place they just left gave Bill nightmares. Nothing was more than a hundred bucks, which was a red flag in itself. The 'satin' they used was just truly patches of thread they found on the street. And oh man, don't get him started on their ties. They had purple ties. _Purple ties!_ What in his dead father's name-

"I needed an excuse to let you get out of the house!" Kryptos moaned. "I knew that if I told you that you could piggyback my own money, you'd go in an instant. Not because you were broke, but because you liked it when I was in pain of seeing my card get rejected!"

"True, true," Bill said dismissively. He was too annoyed to think straight. Not to mention still a little hungover. He picked up his pace beside Kryptos, just to piss him off. Kryptos didn't seem to bat an eye as he hurried beside Bill. It was annoying, really. "See, the thing is, Meatsack-"

"Will you stop calling any person you know but don't want to call a friend 'Meatsack'," Kryptos interrupted.

"I don't have friends, just escorts," Bill snapped. 

"Why would you need an esco-?" Kryptos looked confused for a moment, before a red blush covered his entire face. It was a little funny, Bill had to admit. So for that, Bill patted himself on the back mentally. "O- oh. Escorts. Those kind, not the- the escorting kind. Right- you're twenty eight so you're uh- old...enough," he stammered. 

Bill barged ahead much faster, doing so to see Kryptos wheeze and huff after him. He sneered when his mentor did exactly just that, brushing off the lint from his _real_ accustomed black waistcoat. "Before I was rudely interrupted by you," Bill said indignantly, "the only reason why I'd come out of my prison of a house is so I could get more tequila, or of course, to get to that stupid, unbearable thing you call a-"

He breathed in sharply. He stopped in his tracks, almost letting Kryptos smack against his back. In fact, his mentor moaned a complaint about Bill being bipolar when he walked, but Bill hardly took up the entertainment of listening in. "Kryptos," Bill said quietly, "what day is it today?"

"Thursday." Kryptos walked up beside him, dabbing his forehead with a handkerchief. "Why?"

"And what time is it?" Bill said, just as quietly as before. Are you _kidding_ him right now?

"It's almost four-thirty. Why?"

"You're kidding."

"I'm...not?"

Bill turned to face his companion, his expression and sudden shift in mood startling Kryptos so much that he nearly tripped backwards. "WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME?!" he roared. "IT'S ONLY _NOW_ ENDING AND YOU DIDN'T TELL ME?! DO YOU REALIZE WHAT CAN HAPPEN IF I MISS EVEN A SINGLE ONE OF THOSE LITTLE MEETS? I WON'T BE ABLE TO GO BACK, YOU IDIOT, IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT!"

"B- Bill-" Kryptos sputtered. He was at a lost for words. "You need to do your square breathing. Y- you shouldn't be yelling like this, we're in pub-"

"I DON'T _CARE_!" Bill snapped. "THOSE THINGS END AT FOUR-THIRTY AND IT'S ONLY MY SECOND WEEK. MY. SECOND. WEEK. YOU _WANT_ ME TO-?!" He took a sharp breath, shutting his eyes tight. Then he exhaled, slow and steady. "Bring me to Trust Falls." He said it without opening his eyes.

"But t- the group is done with toda-"

"I said bring me to Trust Falls," Bill snapped. He opened his eyes, openly glaring at the cowering Kryptos. Every time he yelled, his body would feel hot to the touch, no matter what. He didn't know why, but it was an uncomfortable feeling. "Bring me to my house first. I need to get something from the coffee table."

"Bill," Kryptos said weakly.

" _What,_ Kryptos?" Bill said, the calmness in his voice a thin facade that Kryptos knew very well.

"Nothing," he answered, ushering Bill the other way, back to his car. 

They drove for what felt like hours to Bill, always not fast enough to his liking even though Kryptos was already two numbers above the speed limit at all times. He yelled at Kryptos, drummed his fingers, mumbled under his breath- but nothing seemed to get rid of his antsy feeling. It was more uncomfortable than yelling at people. But it was similar. But really, it was different. 

When Bill had arrived at the edge of town, where Trust Falls sat, looming and towering over him and the cars, it was already 4:50 PM. Twenty minutes since Pine Tree's session had ended. And technically, it was his session too. 

"I don't get why you want to come back here," Kryptos said under his breath, "the only sessions going during this time are the guys at the BPD support group."

"Stay here," Bill said through his teeth. "I have to talk to someone."

"What? Bill, can't you just-" 

"You talk _one more time_ and I'm going to make sure you don't get your pay raise because you'd already be _dead,_ " Bill snarled. He was already halfway out of the car, looking at Kryptos with the threat serious in his eyes.

"Okay, okay," Kryptos said in a small voice.

Bill slammed his door close, louder than he should've, and turned right on his heel. He had the completed storybook in his hands, his tongue already rehearsing the words he would say to his probably annoyed partner. He stepped out of the line of cars, eyes shifting and flicking over any living thing that seemed to move even an inch under his gaze.

But no one seemed to be here.

Bill made a noise behind the back of his throat. Of course he wouldn't be here. If Dipper was serious about not wanting to be around him, then he would've torpedoed out of the parking lot as fast as he could so he wouldn't risk seeing Bill jogging up to him. 

He whirled around back to where Kryptos was, a sulking look on his face. He came all this way just to give this stupid book to Dipper and now he wasn't even _here._  Of course, that's not the only reason, because ya know, Bill had a plan to-

"What the hell are you doing here?"

Bill perked up, craning his neck just a little to find Pine Tree himself, standing there with his arms crossed over his chest protectively and his shaggy aviator hat downcast to his eyebrows. He looked ridiculous, as Bill always thought he did, but Bill kept his mouth closed. He grinned instead, his way of greeting the scowling brunet.

"Pine Tree!" Bill said gleefully. "I thought you went home already, but I tried to bring you this-"

"Do you have _any_ idea," Dipper breathed, his face red and screwed up, "of how much _shit_ I got from Blubs because you weren't there today? Like it was _my_ fucking fault you ditched the whole session because you're such an asshole?"

Bill's smile faded from his lips, replaced by a deadpanned look he practiced so well when people weren't looking. "I slept in," he said lamely.

That only somehow ignited a fire in Dipper's eyes. Dipper jabbed his finger at Bill's chest, causing the other to walk backward in surprise. It was a reverse situation, really. It felt Bill went through this exact situation, not even twenty minutes ago, with his own mentor. But somehow Dipper had switched their roles. 

"Do you know how ridiculous I felt, standing in a room of excited fourth graders just for me to tell them I had _nothing_ to bring?! Everyone was staring at me, Bill, _everyone_! Everyone brought something to present except me, all because I trusted you with one. Stupid. _Job_. I don't care if you won't come back to my support group, hell I'd actually fucking love that!" Dipper laughed mirthlessly. "You really think I'd forgive you for putting me on the spot like that?! Because guess what- I won't! I can't! You're one tough guy to come waltzing up to me thinking that bringing me something you should've brought in the first place would solve all my PROBLEMS!"

Bill blinked slowly. He was now the one at a lost for words. On any other day, he would've laughed and yelled right back at Dipper. Possibly getting the both of them in trouble with a fist fight in the process. But he just...couldn't. There was something about the way Dipper yelled at him that tugged a memory in his brain. Not a personal one, just a- a memory, in general. Something he felt before. 

"Pine Tree," he said with a blink, "are you mad at me?"

The question baffled Dipper so much that Dipper's face blanked out, and he stood up straighter. "Ma-? Bill, you're kidding me," he said with a scowl. 

"I'm not." Bill didn't understand why the question sounded so ridiculous to Dipper. It was just a question- _jeez._ "Are you mad at me?" he repeated, much more innocently.

"I- yes." Dipper looked confused now. Why _he_ was confused was confusing Bill as well. "Yes, of course I'm mad. Bill, you made me look dumb in front of fourth graders and my whole _group._ There was like a hundred and twenty people in the room. Of course I'm mad." He sounded impatient. And still confused.

"Oh." Bill's face split into a grin. "Well, that clears everything up, doesn't it?"

Dipper's face turned up in disgust. "Ugh, why are you so hard to _deal with_?" Dipper asked incredulously, throwing his head up into the air with a groan. Bill smothered a laugh in his throat, only allowing himself a grin in this situation. 

"Are you gonna take the book or not?" Bill asked him, holding up the storybook he partially made as if it were a trophy. "Blubs is in that building all day, isn't he? Take it to him. Tell him I'm sorry for all I care!"

Dipper still looked weary. "Bill, that's not how it works."

"Why not? You apologize when you're sorry, don't cha? And I am! Just bring it to him, and then I'll stop bothering you. I swear."

Dipper squinted at him. He still wouldn't take the book from Bill's hands. "If by that," Dipper began slowly, "you mean you wouldn't be in Trust Falls anymore...right?"

"Suspicious, suspicious," Bill scolded. "And no, I'll still be in Trust Falls. But not in your group. I have issues too, Pine Tree. Probably more than you could ever have."

The other was unimpressed by Bill's mild threat. "You told me that already," Dipper said impassively. He took the book from Bill, finally. Good, now Bill could finally breathe again. "But why? Why were you in my group in the first place?"

"I thought it was already obvious." Bill shrugged at him, cocking his head to the side. "I told you from the start, I can't let you get away from me, Pine Tree. You're different. The kind of different perfect for me."

"You're not making any sense."

"I'm not supposed to."

Dipper tucked the book under his arm, not even bothering to check if Bill had done everything correctly as he told him to do. "Well," he said awkwardly, "bye then."

Before Dipper could get away from him one last time, Bill just had to ask. He just had to. It was the same question that itched the back of his tongue whenever he saw Dipper. "Pine Tree," Bill said calmly, "where were you when..." He did the mental math in his head. He didn't want to say those real words. "When you were twelve, here in Oregon?"

Dipper's eyes flashed. He looked startled to be asked that, as anyone would be. "I-" He was tongue-tied for a moment, before he regained his posture enough to speak. "I was staying over with my Grunkles and- yeah. Why?" The distrust in his voice was clear. 

Bill decided not to push it. Instead he smiled at Dipper, a promise in his eyes that he knew would chill the poor boy down to the bone, as it always did with anyone that ever got to meet his eyes. 

"Nothing," Bill said casually. "See you next week, by the way!" he added happily.

Dipper's face hardened. But there was no anger, no surprise. Bill knew Dipper had pinned him as a liar and a cheat the moment they met. Everyone did. "Torment me all you want, Cipher," Dipper said with deadly calm, "there's no chance you can get what you want from me."

Bill smiled at him, and for once his eyes reached it. "I already got it."

The brunet only shook his head, not knowing what to make of Bill. They barely knew each other but the dislike to like ratio was blown off the charts. Dipper didn't say one last goodbye, leaving Bill in the dust just as he deserved it. When Dipper was gone, already in the building of Trust Falls, Bill whipped right around, to where he knew Dipper was walking towards before Bill had interrupted. An old car, with a simple plate number that was hanging from its edge. A dent was at the edge of the bumper. A large dent. He'd only seen this car from the front and side, never the back. And seeing the back...it triggered a sudden epiphany of his. Bill's lips twitched- not into a smile, never a smile with what he was thinking, but a rare frown.

He wondered to himself, his frown deepening with each thought, as to why Mason "Dipper" Pines would ever keep the same car Mabel Pines had driven out that night that ultimately caused her death.


	5. I Don't Wanna Feel Blue Anymore

**NAME/OTHER NAME PRESENTLY USED:** _Mason "Dipper" Pines_

**SURNAME AND GIVEN NAME OF FIRST CONTACT:** _Pacifica Elise Northwest_

**SURNAME AND GIVEN NAME OF EMERGENCY CONTACT:** _N/A_

**DIAGNOSIS/TREATMENT:** _Clinical_ _depression and anxiety. Past history of bulimia and self-harm. Case of migraines and insomnia /_ _[prescription drugs given by doctor] Support group for an estimated six months._

**AUTHORIZE THE ESTABLISHMENT:** _Trust Falls. Gravity Falls, Oregon._

**~~COUNSELOR'S~~  PATIENT'S NOTES: ** _I had fun. Since, you know, He's gone._

* * *

****"Really?" Pacifica snorted. She was leaning across the table to read what he wrote. It wasn't the most lady-like thing she's ever done around him, but somehow none of them noticed. "'I had fun'? That's honestly the most saddest thing I've ever seen in my entire life, Dipper."

"Shut up," Dipper groaned, kicking her shin under the table. Pacifica sat back down across from him, pouting sadly. He clicked his pen a few times, licking his lips. It wasn't like he could white it out now- it was good enough, anyway. Blubs never really specified on how much he needed to write. "What do you want me to do, give a detailed thesis on how much fun sitting in a dusty classroom for a couple hours is? Because even I can't bullshit my way through that, Pacifica," he said distastefully.

"Well, if you want them to know how much you're improving, you have to. It's bad enough they changed the counselor's notes to your own reflection like you're in kindergarten," Pacifica replied. She checked her shiny new nails as she spoke. It was odd, seeing a Northwest in a crumbly old diner with an even more crumbly man who hasn't showered in weeks. But the residents of Gravity Falls were probably used to seeing the duo meet every Tuesday in Greasy's Diner. The waft of pancakes and coffee was a familiar smell, a smell much homey than his actual home.

"And how is that bad, exactly?" Dipper grumbled. He felt his back sinking lower against the seat.

"Well, you're the one they're keeping an eye on the most." She said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Dipper felt his ears tingle with embarrassment. "That's because you're paying them!" he argued.

Pacifica snickered at him. She dropped her hand to her lap, folding her arms across her chest. She looked at him with an overly-obvious look, like Dipper was the stupidest student she ever had to come across. "Dip," Pacifica began, "you're literally the only person in your support group that had to have their counselor's notes changed to 'patient' because you had a _meltdown._ No one should be having a meltdown like that."

"I did _not,_ " Dipper clarified, though his ears were now burning. "I just- needed time to breathe because I was so frustrated, you know?" Meltdown was not a word to describe his uh, not so great moment of truth.

"That's called anxiety," Pacifica said sarcastically. "But Blubs told me you-"

"Don't." Dipper closed his eyes, rubbing at them with his knuckles. It was only six in the morning. He didn't deserve a lecture at this time. Stupid Northwest and her stupid strict schedules. "I just...need more time," he mumbled.

When Dipper opened his eyes, he could catch the softened look on his friend's face, even if it was just by a fraction of an inch. It was the same look she gave him every time Dipper acted irrational. Or weak. He hated it. "Dipper, it's been _ten months,_ " Pacifica said softly. "You haven't been getting any better like you should be. Actually, you're getting worst. You don't need more time, you just need to move on."

"I- I know, I just-" Dipper's eyes itched, like it always did whenever someone brought up _that_ subject. He was slowly getting better at controlling the itch, with rapid blinks and deep breaths. But talking about it never got better. "I miss her so much," he whimpered.

Pacifica pitied him. He know she did. Everyone in town did. "Our ravioli will get here soon," she promised him. "It will all be on me. Just...try. Please? Go outside more, visit the graveyard-"

"You think I don't do that already?" Dipper snapped. He sighed, rubbing the sore spot on the back of his neck. Sleeping on his desk was never a good idea. "Losing a sibling is one thing, Pacifica, but Mabel..."

"I miss her too. All of us do, but Mabel would want you to stop sulking, Dipper," Pacifica told him. Her voice was soft, hollow. She just didn't get it. People are allowed to miss Mabel, of course they are, but Dipper- Dipper didn't deserve even that. Mabel was his responsibility and he blew it. "I'll cancel all my business trips next week, we'll-"

"No, no. Don't do that." Dipper waved a hand in dismissal. A waitress came by a moment later, serving them two cups of steaming dark coffee for an early morning. Pacifica thanked her, and then she was gone. While Pacifica sipped and Dipper gripped his coffee cup, he added, "I'll be fine, Pacifica. I think I'm getting better with the support group." Two lies in two sentences.

Pacifica laughed, a little relieved. "I'm glad," she said, "but just wondering...how are you and Operation Psychopath?" Well, one bad subject to another. His morning was just going wonderfully.

Dipper made a face, bringing his coffee to his lips to hide it. "Well for one, he had the audacity to come by after the damn session with the thing he was supposed to bring before it," he said bitterly, "can you _believe_ how thick that guy's head is?"

"Apparently as thick as his ego," Pacifica agreed. "But what I still don't get is- what does he want from you? He hasn't asked you out yet, has he?" she asked him in concern. She had her fair share of stalkers and creeps. But Dipper didn't know what Pacifica was thinking, with her mixed signals and all. Does she want them together, or not? Girls are complicated, he decided, and left it at that. 

"Not since the second time we met." Dipper shrugged. His eyes flicked behind Pacifica, watching the waitress come towards them with a plate of ravioli. He licked his lips yet again, feeling his empty stomach get emptier. He skipped dinner last night in exchange for job hunting on the internet. He brought his eyes back to her curious ones, adding, "But he has been, uh...keeping tabs on me, I guess."

"Oh? How so?" Pacifica sipped at her coffee. 

"He doesn't go to my support group. Apparently he goes to another one, but he got special permission to go to mine," Dipper sighed. "And before you ask, no I don't know which one he goes to. And why they let him go to a completely separate one in the first place. Kinda stupid of a counselor, if you ask me."

As the waitress set down their ravioli in front of them, Pacifica offered, "Maybe you should just go out with him? Just once?" Yep. She wants them together. 

"Pacifica, not this again," he groaned.

"I mean it!" she laughed. She waved the waitress away, they both said their thanks, and both picked up their forks, ready to eat. "When a persistent bachelor keeps annoying me for more than two weeks, I agree to go out with them. But I sabotage the dates. Impressive, am I right?"

"Actually, the most impressive part is the fact you used the word 'persistent' the right way," Dipper drawled. Pacifica kicked him under the table. "No, but seriously," he said, playing with the ravioli on his plate, "going out with him isn't an option. I don't even want to _look_ at him."

"Throw a bag over his head, duh!" Pacifica exclaimed.

That actually made him chuckle. "A bag won't be enough to conceal his hideous face."

"Ohhh, the Pines got shade."

"Thank you, thank you. I try not to be too much of a prick."

They laughed together, and Dipper suddenly felt much better than a cup of coffee ever could let him. He missed being with a friend, if he was being honest. As if Pacifica read his mind, she said, "By the way, I'm really sorry I haven't been with you much. Internship with my dad, you know?"

"I get it," Dipper said truthfully, "I do, promise. We're adults, Pacifica- you don't have to take care of me."

"Still," Pacifica said in exasperation, "what happened to you-"

"-was horrible and definitely something I can't get over like a bad picnic," Dipper finished. He moved the ravioli on his plate around, just to trick Pacifica into thinking he was eating something. "But like you said, I can't keep sulking around for the rest of my life. I'll get...I'll learn to get better. Somehow, anyway," he sighed.

Pacifica was still frowning, unconvinced. "You know, before Mabel died-"

Dipper flinched.

"-she told me that she hated seeing you always coped up in your room like a cellmate," she finished. "I don't dictate your life, Dipper, but maybe you should just..."

"I've _tried,_ Pacifica," Dipper groaned. He leaned his head against the back of his seat. "I even tried that dating site you made me go on and-" He shivered for effect, "-the girl I was supposed to go with was a senior obsessed with soft skin. I had to run out the back door of the restaurant in complete darkness to make sure she wouldn't see me completely ditching her." Never would he do anything Pacifica told him to use from now on. It was like Mabel's matchmaking all over again. Though, he'd put up with all of her matchmaking if it meant she'd be _here_ in the first place. 

Pacifica giggled at his story, putting a generous piece of ravioli into her mouth. Then she pointed her fork at him, and said, "If you want to be a hermit for the rest of your life, be my guest. Date science, like your great uncle, I guess. But since that guy-"

"Why me?" Dipper begged the sky, "Why is it always me with the friends with the worst advice?"

Pacifica wasn't pleased with his interruption. "Dipper," she scolded, "he drove all that way back to Trust Falls knowing perfectly well your session was over just so he could bail you out of the storybook project."

"He's a _creep,_ Pacifica!" Dipper argued. He stabbed his ravioli harder than he should. 

"He's a sweetheart, from the misinformed stories you've told me!" she argued back.

"Sweetheart? That is literally one of the last things I could use to describe him!" Dipper said in disbelief. All Bill had shown him in the last weeks was that he was a no good filthy liar, player, anger-issued baby with-

Dipper's phone rang in his back pocket. It was odd, considering he made sure it was on silent when they entered the diner. Pacifica raised an eyebrow at him, no longer amused by the instrumentals to 'Disco Girl'. Dipper smiled at her sheepishly, the question on his lips, but she waved a hand at him and said boredly, "Answer it. You put up with my business calls, this is the least I could give to you."

He gave her one last smile, before he dropped his fork and reached for the his phone. The only people who would really be calling him were his family to check in. If he didn't answer, they'd assume he was having a mental breakdown and haul their asses right over to Gravity Falls. So Dipper, not wanting a bunch of people in his cozy abandoned Mystery Shack (Soos had a Mystery Shack 2.0 much bigger somewhere near the edge of town and gave the original to him to live in with Mabel), answered the phone without checking the caller ID. That was his first mistake.

"I'm doing perfectly okay, I haven't done anything bad to myself in nearly seven months, I've been taking my meds, and I clean my underwear and laundry every other week- I'm okay." Actually answering that way was his second mistake.

Blubs's laughter could be heard from the other end. Dipper's spine hardened and iced. Pacifica noticed his shift in mood, perking up to try and hear what was happening in the other end of the call not so subtly over the sounds of tired chatter and grills frying up. "I'm glad you're doing fine, Pines, but that's a bit too much information even for your counselor, don't you think?" Blubs teased him. 

"Blubs." Dipper blinked. "I- I didn't know you were the one calling-"

"Oh no, it's fine," Blubs promised him, "I was just calling to inform you of somethin'. But you know, underwear needs to be cleaned every three days, Pines. You're going to get mold all over your crotch area."

"Underwear does _not_ mold, under any circumstances! Especially not mine, mine are made out of Grunkle Ford's formula, which makes sure any stain can't-!" he sputtered. But then he stopped, blanked out for a moment, and said, "Inform me of what?"

"Remember that guy who apologized to me so gentlemanly just a couple days before?" Blubs said happily. "Oh, they just don't make fellows like that anymore! And his _suit-_ now, I don't have a good taste in fashion but he must be breaking hearts wherever he-"

"Blubs," Dipper interrupted, his ears reverting back to a light shade of pink, "you were saying?"

"Oh! Right, right!" Blubs agreed. "See, Bill paid me a mighty fine generous amount of money to make sure he-" He suddenly went quiet, the muffling sound on the receiver making it clear Blubs covered his phone to talk privately with someone. Dipper caught snippets, something like, "Wait- wasn't supposed to- right that's illegal- not say that to him?" Then Blubs was back on his phone. "Sorry, had to talk to Durland," he apologized.

"Blubs, what happened with Bill?" Dipper said coldly. Pacifica's head shot up so fast Dipper was sure she would need to get neck surgery. Dipper pretended not to notice.

"Oh, him? Nothing much," Blubs said nonchalantly. "He just asked me if he could keep coming to the sessions. I said yes, of course. Who wouldn't want a person like him to liven up the room?" _Not me,_ Dipper wanted to shout. "Anywho, he asked me very specifically to always pair him up with you. Chairs, projects, coffee breaks- anything!"

Dipper wanted to throw his phone down right then and there. He grinded his teeth, and said, "And you're telling me this _why_?"

"Because you just ought to know!" Blubs answered, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Plus, permission is everything. You two don't have chemistry, you have downright alchemy, Pines. Do you want him beside you twenty-four-seven?"

"No," Dipper said automatically, a syllable before Blubs even finished. "Definitely no."

"Oh." Blubs went quiet for a while before he said, "Too bad. It'll still happen. And by the way, Pines..."

"What _. Now_?" He tried to keep calm.

"Next session, we all need to be separated into partners to learn how to make wire rings to be donated to a group in Astoria. Just thought you'd like to know. Get that piece of paper about your thoughts from last session ready!" Blubs laughed. Before Dipper could say anything else, he cut their line, leaving Dipper to gawk at the horrible luck he was just put in.

Pacifica was looking at him expectantly when he put down his phone. "Well?" she demanded.

"He's stuck with me," Dipper said when his jaw started to move again. "He's fucking stuck with me."

Pacifica split into a smile. "See? Even the universe is telling you to go out with him!" she exclaimed. 

"That, or he paid Blubs in hard cold cash to stalk me easier!" Dipper argued. He picked up his fork, moved his ravioli a little bit, grew frustrated, then set it down. He didn't eat even the tiniest bit from it. Which was a waste, considering this was his only chance to eat anything else other than instant ramen noodles.  

"You know," Pacifica purred, "you're getting extremely defensive over this guy..."

"Well no duh."

" _Ha-_ see?! You only do that when you like someone!" Pacifica exclaimed, pointing her finger accusingly at him. Her eyes danced with joy, like the fact that Dipper liking his stalker/kidnapper in some sort of form of Stockholm syndrome was a good thing. 

Dipper felt like his soul descended into the deepest parts of hell.

"I-" The argument died in his throat. Arguing with a Northwest was like arguing against a wall of one hundred dollar bills. Speaking of bills- "I'm done with this conversation," he said with a shake of his head, pushing his plate of ravioli away from his body. "Just call the waitress over and ditch this place. I think it's time we get a mani-pedi, don't you think?"

Pacifica frowned at him, setting down her fork. She didn't care that Dipper wasted his food and her money- she got loads of that to spend since she took over her dad's business. Mentioning _and_ suggesting mani-pedis on the other hand, was something Dipper Pines would never say even in exchange for his life. "Man, you _really_ hate this guy, don't you?" she chuckled. Despite that, she called their waitress over and paid for their breakfast. In the meanwhile, Dipper twiddled with his thumbs, literally and figuratively, looking down at his somewhat malnourished fingers to avoid eye contact. Looking at the shape of his nails, he admitted that he seriously needed a mani-pedi. 

"Next time," Pacifica said as they exited the diner, "I'm going to make sure you actually eat your ravioli than letting my money run down the drain."

"You could keep the tap on for a week straight and still have money left to buy yourself a Porsche and a yacht with a whole staff on board," Dipper snorted.

Pacifica shrugged, neither denying or admitting to his claims. 

They reached Pacifica's purple Prius a couple meters later, all shiny and buffed as it was before they left the diner. The car beeped, revving up to Pacifica's controls on her keys. Unfortunately, Pacifica was too busy looking down at her receipt to notice the one thing on her car that wasn't there before.

"Dipper?"

He made a humming noise to show her he was listening. 

"You didn't pay for the ravioli when I wasn't looking, were you?"

"I could barely pay for a grain of rice, what makes you think I would-?"

"Dipper."

She said his name more urgently than before. Dipper stopped when her arm shot out, stopping him in his tracks. He was about to complain, before he noticed the bright roses and carnations on the hood of Pacifica's car. They were in a bundled into a bouquet, exactly the way Dipper saw them in Bill's own arms the day he tried to apologize. If he didn't know any better, he would've thought Bill picked up the stomped flowers off the ground and put them right here, where they were staring at.

"See?" What'd I tell you? Stalker," Dipper said bluntly.

Pacifica hit his arm. Before she could lecture him again, she thrust the receipt into his face. Dipper didn't see the point- even if the total was a thousand bucks, he doubted Pacifica would even care, or notice, for that matter. Dipper read through the first lines quickly, normal shit like their normal cost of coffee and normal cost of ravioli and normal cost of tips. 

That is, until he read the bottom. Every single dollar, every single cent, was reduced to nothing for a whopping total of zero dollars and zero cents to be paid.

"What-" Dipper's throat closed up. "Tell me this is a joke. _Please_ tell me you're joking." The flowers were bad enough. Pacifica just grimaced, just a little. It was the biggest insult to a Northwest to have someone pay for their things. 

As if they were thinking the same thing, Dipper and Pacifica ran to her car like someone shouted for free ice cream. Dipper got to it first, his heart hammering in his chest like it never was before. "I- I honestly don't know if this whole situation should be viewed as the start of a romance novel or a thriller," Pacifica breathed.

_Thriller_ , Dipper decided. _Definitely thriller._

On the bouquet tag was a brief note. 

> _I ASKED YOU IF YOU WANTED TO GO OUT ON A DATE ON A TUESDAY._  
>  _IT'S TUESDAY._  
>  _YOU NEVER ANSWERED._  
>  _I WOULDN'T CALL BEING OPPOSITE SIDES OF A DINER A DATE, BUT I'LL TAKE IT!_  
>  _HERE'S SOMETHING I FOUND BEAUTIFUL AND KILLED THEM SO YOU COULD WATCH EM DECAY_  
>  _IF YOU DON'T WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT, I MEAN THE FLOWERS BUT I THINK YOU KNOW THAT_  
>  _CALL ME_  
>  _P.S. THAT'S NOT MY REAL NUMBER, IT'S SCRAMBLED!!!_

It wasn't signed, but Dipper knew exactly who it was from. The phone number seemed innocent on the bottom, but if Bill was telling the truth, Dipper would need to unscramble it. Looking at it gave him a headache.

Sure. As if he'd actually do that.

He ripped the piece of paper in half, stuffing it in the bouquet. Then he turned right around and threw it in the giant trash bin used by the diner. He dusted off his hands, looking proud of his actions. Bill had a lot of nerve to do that and actually _think_ he'd even consider calling.

When Dipper turned around, he found Pacifica smiling at him. "What?" he asked.

"How does it feel to go on your first date with him?" Pacifica drawled, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively. It was an odd expression on an expressionless person like her. 

Dipper snorted. He walked past her, right towards her car. "I don't think he even knows how to take a person out on a date, Pacifica." Hopefully, it stays that way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bloop, why you gotta be so creepy, Bill. Just kiss him and go, amirite? Anyway, next chapter has some actual (dorky) interaction, promise ;v;. Just some little shown impact Mabel's death had on Dipper in this chapter ;v;;;;;;.


	6. Power and Control, I'm Gonna Make You Fall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in updates! Got some of dat Wi-Fi issues and exams, ya know ya know. Anyway, enjoy this somewhat sweet chapter, just some more (if not little) bonding for our boys :D.

> **HIRAETH** (n.)  _homesickness tinged with grief or sadness over the lost or departed_

_NZYVO KRMVH_

* * *

****Bill didn't want to start off his day like this. Days of all days, of course he would lose his favorite bow tie on the day he'd finally meet with his favorite tree. Growling like a madman about to lose it (which he technically was), Bill ripped the tie off his neck, nearly straggling himself in the process. The hideous brown tie floated onto his bed, now torn and no longer okay to use. It wasn't like he cared anyway. _Hideous_ , that tie.

"Where is it?" he snarled under his breath. He turned to look at Kryptos, the man sitting on his shoe bench with a startled look. Bill jabbed a finger at him, feeling his blood boil with anger.

"Whoa, calm down there, buddy. One moment you were casually putting on that tie and the next you look like you want me to be the next murder victim on your list," Kryptos began, bringing his open palms to his chest in a _I don't know what's happening but don't kill me_ look.

"See, I would agree with that but you're already on my murder list, Kryptos," Bill replied impatiently. He took a shaky breath, flattening out his hair to keep his hands busy. No bow tie was here for him to fidget with. "You knew how important today was for me- even an idiot like you would know when to make sure I had everything in control the day before _I had to go to that stupid_ -!" Every word rose with his anger towards Kryptos.

"Bill!" Kryptos bellowed. Bill snapped his mouth closed like a trap. "Your _anger._ "

Just like that, Bill stopped flattening his hair and stopped dead in his pacing. He didn't even realize he was walking around his room, until he realized that he had halted right in front of his mentor. One deep breath later, and an exhale soon after, Bill remembered why he had to deal with Kryptos in the first place. Switching from calm to anger that fast was the reason why he can't have his freedom yet. He needed to breathe. Just breathe, and breathe...

" _Now_ ," Kryp sang, "what do you sayyy?"

"I'm sorry," he forced out, the words sour and foreign in his mouth. "Apologies to you, _Kryptos._ " His name came out too bitter, too forced. Fantastic. He almost got it right too.

Kryptos forced a smile on his face. "Apology accepted," he said easily, "but you _got_ to get better at sincere ones next time, Bill. You need to learn how to read me. Or anyone, for that matter. No one needs to tell you that you need to apol-"

"I know!" Bill snapped. "Look, all I want is my bow tie. If I don't find it now, I'm going to be late again. And it'll all be because of _you. Again_!" 

"Why do you always blame me?" Kryptos moaned. "Why do you even need a stupid bow tie to go to a _support group_? Who actively thinks, 'oh man, I need a bow tie to help with my depression'?"

Bill, right then and there, decided that out of all seven billion people on Earth and the trillions of stars in the galaxy, Kryptos was his least favorite thing to have interacted with. He almost snapped back, probably to truly strangle his mentor this time, but thought against it. Even he knew that yelling over and over again won't solve a problem- though that would be a nice method to deal with the problem at the moment in his eyes. "I need it," Bill gritted out, "because it's my bow tie and I have to dress to impress. Who, exactly? The _gnikcuf_ Pines boy. So unless you want me to throw a tantrum and get your salary underfunded, you need to find that tie before-"

"Gnikcuf? Like-? Oh, nevermind," his mentor cut off. He counted the alphabet off his fingers, finally getting Bill's antiques of swears. "Billy, I'm gonna be honest here. I don't think a bow tie is going to impress Dip- it was Dipper, right? Gosh, what a weird name. Anyway, what I'm trying to say here is that, if you _really_ wanna woo the guy, get him- I dunno- flowers? Chocolates? A football to show masculinity because flowers are considered inherently femi-?"

"Showering him with gifts isn't going to make him like me," Bill said offhandedly. Though the chocolates...that wasn't a bad idea. For a brief moment Bill wondered if Dipper would prefer chocolate from France or Switzerland. "He already showed that by throwing my hand-picked flowers in the garbage like the ungrateful kid he is. How spoiled can someone be to throw away that many _flowers_?"

Kryptos snorted. "Come talk to me about spoiled brats, why would ya?" he muttered under his breath. Bill shot him a look.

"Kryptos," Bill said as calmly as he could. Though the anger was boiling under his skin, as Kryptos would put it. Anger and calm was the only two emotions he could deal with right now. And forever, probably. "Where. Is. My. _Tie_?"

If someone took a big enough whiff, Bill wouldn't be surprised if they had smelled electricity in the air. Bill could feel himself charging up for another one of his many tantrums, and he doubted even Kryptos was dumb enough to not notice. His mentor's eyes looked uneasy, and he started glancing around the room like that would help him. Too bad for him, Bill had searched every nook and cranny of this stupid house to find that even stupider bow tie. "I- um-" Kryptos stammered.

"FIND IT!" Bill bellowed.

Just like that, Kryptos turned from slacking mentor to a scared little guinea pig running around the house to his master's wishes. 

When Kryp had left his room, Bill loosened, feeling his breath slowly release out of him. Believe it or not, but being angry twenty-four-seven was more of a chore than one would realize. Bill pinched the bridge of his nose with his two fingers, running his other hand through his bleached hair. He was extra angry today. He hated it. _Hated it_.

Dipper Pines...he was an interesting man. He was as interesting as he was hard to get. You don't find men like that nowadays. Only, Bill always got them in the end. Why was it different this time? What made this boy so entitled to turning down _him_ of all people? Heck, why was he so offended in the first place?

Right. He felt his mouth turn even more sour. He's a Pines. A needle in his side, just like the rest of 'em.

"Bill?" Kryptos called from downstairs. 

"What do you want?"

"I- I uh- I think I found your bow tie? It was in the pocket of one of your waistcoats."

Bill grunted. Of course it would be there. He glanced up at himself in the mirror. He looked decent enough, though he knew the bow tie would certainly compliment the suspenders and vest he was wearing. Oh, but there was one thing he was missing for sure. His eye. He looked down at the desk in front of him, shook the jar on it, and popped the cap open. He took out the eye, gently pulled back his gauze, and inserted it in. He slapped the gauze back in place. He didn't look any different, but he surely felt different. 

"Bill? Are you coming or what?"

"I'm coming, I'm coming! Don't get your panties in a twist!" Bill said in irritation. It was a perfect sunny day to ruin a Pine Tree's shade, after all.

* * *

 ****Coffee, Bill realized, was probably humanity's savior. He took a big sniff of the cream and java in the air, basically restraining himself from licking his lips. Oh, how he missed coffee. Kryptos wouldn't let him have any due to the fact that it could "tamper with emotions". Bill tried not to snort at the memory. Well, letting Kryptos to be in the same room as him was certainly tampering his emotions.

Blubs had greeted Bill when he had walked through the door, but had to excuse himself to talk to a young boy who didn't take his usual decaf coffee but a double shot. Bill was glad. A gentleman could only take quite a bit of strained elegance before they had to revert back to being a wolf. 

Sipping his coffee with satisfaction, Bill flicked his eyes around the room, wondering where his favorite Pine Tree had run off to. If, of course, Pine Tree was even here yet. He had arrived fifteen minutes too early, and only a select few people had come as of now. Everyone wanted to limit their time being reminded that there was something wrong with them, obviously. Dipper was probably no different. But still, Bill couldn't help but watch and observe the bodies around him. Right away, a simple glance around the rather small room would lead someone to believe that this was a place for zombies, not humans trying to be better.

The human mind was a very vast place. Bill always wondered what it would be like to have the actual full functions of one. Not that anyone in this room probably knew the answer either- if they were here, that meant they were missing something from their little pink spongy organ themselves.

Bill set the mug down by the counter at his side. He swallowed the last biting shot (Robusta, roasted so much longer just as he liked it), then wiped his mouth on a napkin. He should've asked Kryptos to take him to a candy store. Buying chocolate seemed so much more fun than standing around near a coffee machine for the next fifteen minutes. 

Or, make that the whole session. People (ironically, Blubs just stood by the sidelines telling them what to do) were beginning to set up the next support session. Chairs in a circle, the state flag for Oregon in the middle- _boo._ Progress reports of how everyone was feeling and if they were getting better this month. Hated that in school with report cards, and he hated it now.

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Bill glanced away from the gathered chairs. Maybe if he stood still enough, Blubs wouldn't notice him and ask to help form the circle. 

By the edge of Bill's peripheral vision, he saw a certain sulking figure, finding his way into the shadows to, just like him, avoid helping everyone else pull out the chairs. Dipper had ditched his filthy lumberjack hat for a pair of black earphones. Bill could tell he was lost in what ever he was listening to, because he didn't think he'd seen someone's eyes look that glassy unless they were high on drugs. Bill watched him for a while, staring as Dipper pulled the only chair they didn't take and helping himself to sit, his back to Bill and from the world. Then he pulled out a leather-bound journal, and began scribbling something furiously.

Trying not to snicker, Bill slunk his way over to the Pines boy, clasping his hands behind his back innocently. When he arrived, right behind Dipper, he saw that Dipper was sketching out a map of North America. Bill stooped, until he was practically breathing right over Dipper's head. 

"Whatcha writing there, Pine Tree?" he sang.

He tried not to burst out laughing when Dipper ripped out his earphones, turning to look behind him while his chair rocked and threatened to let him fall over. Instead, Bill tried to smile angelically, and tried to conceal his urge to kick the chair and make Dipper really do fall over. You know, just to see what Dipper would do. He doubted trying to look innocent would hide his all mighty asshole-ness. 

Instantly, Dipper scowled. He wasn't as...brash as he used to be when Bill first came up to him. In fact, it seemed like Dipper's eyes held a sort of defeat. Bill straightened his back, awaiting Dipper's words with that little annoying smile of his. 

"Oh. It's you," Dipper said. Even his tone sounded beaten. What was the fun in torturing a guy if he already says uncle? "What now, Bill?"

Before Bill could even think about opening his mouth again, a robotic female's voice began to speak to fill the silence between them; "The western red lily is the national flower of Saskatchewan, Canada. In contrast, Alberta, Canada has the wild rose-"

Dipper took out his iPod and paused the podcast, his face a slight shade of embarrassing red as Bill began to laugh. "What- what was _that_?" Bill guffawed. 

"I just wanted to learn more about geography so I could travel the world," Dipper mumbled.

"And knowing national flowers would help?"

"Shut it, Cipher." Bill was beginning to think the red on Pine Tree's face wasn't from embarrassment, but rather the resentment towards him. 

"Ya know," Bill grinned, "Learning the whole of 'O Canada' in French will get you much farther up north than knowing their flowers. I don't think half of them even know that and they _live_ there."

 "Of course they do, they're Canadians. There's flowers everywhere," Dipper huffed. 

"Can you guess what season it is three fourths of the year up north and what _doesn't_ grow during that time?"

"Okay! _Okay_! I'm sorry I'm too American for you!" Dipper said in exasperation, throwing his hands up in the air. He stuffed his earphones back in his pockets, getting up from his chair to pivot around and look at Bill face to face. He snapped his journal closed, shoving it in the inside of his jacket. "I'm serious, Bill," Dipper said, the annoyance still fully evident, " _what do you want_?"

"Oho boy, isn't that a conversation starter?" Bill asked him happily. He brought up his fingers, counting off every wish. "Well, you see, I'd like to start small. Maybe a golden statue of me in front of the White House is a tiny enough wish, don't you think? Oh, and then there's world domination, can't forget that! The ban of synthesized music forever, slaves working for me, the finest wine, the murder of Kryptos-"

"No. No, Bill- I meant-" Dipper rubbed one side of his cheek, as if he was trying to wake himself up. "What do you _want_? From me? Why are you still trying to follow me around?" Heck, the kid even sounded tired.

"Simple! Haven't you asked me this before? You're an interesting guy," Bill said gladly. "And I mean _interesting,_ kind of  _interesting..._ "

Dipper's nose wrinkled. "Now that's just borderline creepy."

"No kidding," Bill chuckled. 

The brunet's face dulled, a blank slate of judgement as he looked at Bill, up and down. Bill let him, the brightness still on his face. Let Dipper guess what he was trying to do. Even old Fordsy never guessed what his intentions were and he doubted a mini version of Nerd Face would do much better.

"As long as you're not trying to pry into my own life, Bill, I don't care what you're up to," Dipper said softly. Bill stiffened, though he was sure it wasn't noticeable. "I seriously don't care. I've gone through worst than an amateur stalker like you," he spat. And then Dipper shook his head, and sauntered off to the chairs already organized in the middle of the room. Ouch.

Breathing deep through his nose, Bill hung his head and released the oxygen from his lungs with a soundless laugh. This was so much more entertaining than he anticipated. 

Bill pivoted on his heel, and strode to where Dipper had gone. And _exactly_ where Dipper had gone. He took a seat directly beside Dipper, face to face with the other still empty chairs and bright pastel colored walls. It was like being in a nursery, but in a nursery for lost adults. Like instead of milk in bottles, there's coffee in mugs by the counters. And instead of loud, noisy toddlers, the room was filled with solemn chatter. A funeral held on a pleasant day.

Dipper sat rigid beside him, aware of his presence but refusing to acknowledge it. He had his earphones back in, scribbling back in that journal of his with a type of fervor you'd see on mad scientists. The journal looked somewhat familiar in Bill's eyes. It tickled his brain like a feather to the nose. Ready to sneeze but damn, it wasn't coming. Bill turned himself away from the journal.

He watched and watched as more people poured in, varying looks on their faces. As of what he could gather, the younger the patient, the more hopeful they seemed of the prospect of getting help from a support group. He's seen little boys, little girls, teenaged kids, _all_ of them, have at least a tiny bit of a star in their eyes. And the adults...it was depressing, that much he was willing to admit. They've gone through therapy, talked to loved ones, probably have tried other ways of using different unsupervised methods to use as outlets. They were no longer hopeful of a cure, because after you've tried everything to help your own brain, you'd soon realize it was always against you in the first place. No one would willingly help an enemy. Bill knew that.

"Okay folks, how about we get this party started, hmm?" Blubs said, rubbing his hands together like a super-villain from the movies. Every chair had been filled up. "I know, I know. I said we'd be making those wired rings today, but whoops! Forgot we had to check up on everyone once in a while, you know? We'll get started on that if we finish early, but only if. Obviously we all have something to talk about, considering how everyone looks like the undead today." The circle laughed a little at his joke.

Dipper, begrudgingly, put away his journal and podcast of the flowers of Canada. Under his breath, he grumbled, "We can't be the undead today if our bodies are literally the undead everyday of the year." Bill tittered at that, and Dipper shot him a dirty look.

"Let's start like how we always do. Volunteers, please? Who wants to start us off?" Blubs said giddily. Bill was pretty sure the group had only done this once in the past. At least, as far as he knew. But, out of curiosity as how this worked, Bill raised his hand. "Ah, Bill! Wonderful, our newbie. How you doing today?" Blubs said kindly. All eyes automatically turned to look at Bill. Dipper's back slid slowly from his chair.

"Swell. Just splendid," Bill said blithely.  He paused for the shortest of moments, before he asked honestly, "Is that all I'm supposed to say or what?"

Blubs laughed, along with 98% of the circle (that 2% being Dipper of course). "You could, if you want to. That's what the shy folks do when it's their turn," Blubs told him, "but I doubt you're one of the shy ones. Tell us anything! What was your favorite thing you did this week, if someone made you angry, any cool memories you got in that head of yours."

"Anything?" Bill drawled. He looked up at the ceiling, pondering over this. And then he thought of something devious. Of course, he didn't want to overdo it, but he wondered what Dipper would say. 

Then he looked back down, eyes on Blubs. "Well, I was wondering, including ranting and venting out, if this support group would like to give me advice?" he said miserably. He played out the role of a lamentable man in need, and by the looks on everyone's faces and the little oohs in the circle, he could tell he did a fine job. 

"Of- of course!" Blubs sputtered. His eyes were lit with eagerness. Any counselor's dream was to finally have some advisable drama to finally fill the void of "no, I don't have any questions" every time they did their job. "What's going on in that head of yours, Bill? Tell us!" 

"See, a few weeks ago I met this guy-" Bill began sadly. Dipper was trying to tune him out, he could tell, but the moment he said that, the tension in Dipper's face went from none to a hundred percent. "-and I thought he was...well, pleasant. But every time I try to get close to him, he'd shun me out. And I don't even know why!"

The group around him muttered and whispered among themselves. Bill tried so hard not to grin and keep the solemn look on his face. "Oh, you poor thing," Blubs said in pity. "How are the two of you now?"

"Not so great, boss," Bill said with a frown. He slung an arm behind him casually, looking exactly what people would view as "troubled and upset". "See, I tried giving him flowers to apologize for my reckless behavior from before -since, ya know, I couldn't explain to him my grandmother's fifteen year old cat just died- but he threw them away in front of my face!" Here, he did sound genuinely upset, and he surprised himself for sounding so believable. 

"Bill, I swear to-" Dipper hissed under his breath. He was hiding his face as subtly as he could.

Dipper was cut off by the gasps and chatter that had blown in the circle. Bill could hear snippets of each, and he tried not to laugh at each one, especially since he knew Dipper was listening in as well. Things like, "Wow, what a douchebag," and "He was apologizing! What kind of demon would even think about something like that?" Each time they got worst, and each time Dipper's skin was turning more and more blanch. Dipper should pay his respects to Bill. Bill hadn't even told them it was him.

"That is _terrible,_ Bill!" Blubs said sympathetically. "I can't even  _imagine_ someone doing such a thing to a kind gentleman like you."

If all was quiet, Bill didn't doubt for a moment that he would be able to hear Dipper grinding his teeth. Once again, Bill played the pity card. "I know," Bill replied unhappily, "I'm trying to make him see that all I want to do is apologize and get to know him better, but nothing seems to work! Do you see my problem here?"

"Oh, I see it," Blubs agreed. "C'mon, you guys, let's help our friend Bill here. Does anyone know how to help him?"

Just like that, everyone was back in fourth grade. They shouted answers all at once, which included advice like, "Catch him up alone where he can't escape and make him see reason!" and "Have you tried meeting up with him with a fake Tinder profile?" 

Bill replied to each patiently, nodding his head to each one and adding comments like, "Oh, I've tried. He called me an amateur stalker for it." Every minute, he swore he could feel Dipper's soul trying its hardest to strangle him to death telepathically. 

Finally, Blubs had enough, and he shouted, "Okay, I think Bill has had enough advice to digest at once, eh? Maybe you should try keeping a notepad to write all this down, Bill!" Bill laughed with the rest of them, seriously considering it. Before Bill could make a witty comment right back, Blubs had found Dipper, who was looking down at the floor like the ants marching about was the most interesting species he's seen in his entire life. "How about you, Dipper? I didn't hear you make one sound the whole time Bill needed advice from _all_ of us."

Dipper looked up, a little alarmed judged by the wideness of his eyes. "I- I uh-" Dipper stammered. He looked sideways at Bill, and suddenly that alarm in his eyes was exchanged with a type of loathing. "I mean, I don't really have advice, I mean I never really-"

"Oh come on, Pines! Your sister used to be the town's love cupid, you must've at least picked up something from her," Blubs drawled. Dipper tensed. So did Bill. 

With that, Dipper's hesitation disappeared like dark ashes on a windy night. His lips were drawn back in a snarl, a scorching glow in his normally passive eyes. And it stirred something in Bill, that look. Something he haven't felt in a long time. Excitement. He just didn't know which kind of excitement it was. 

"Maybe Bill should just tell him explicitly what he wanted to say," Dipper breathed, his voice slightly shaking with the contained anger Bill knew too well. "Don't you think any of you would think it's a little shady that some asshole would bully you until you had enough and the next day act like _he_ was the victim in everything? It's messed up! Bill needs to learn how to _grow up,_ before someone could genuinely forgive him for anything, because right now, he's acting like a colossal _prick_!" Dipper declared angrily, each word a bite that Bill happily took.

It wasn't like he didn't know that- he lost count of how many times people had told him that themselves, face to face. But the thing is, Bill liked being a prick, as Dipper puts it. It was the funniest thing to see whenever he gets the chance to actually see how furious he's made other people. The angrier, the better. To put it in "normal people" perspective; would one rather listen to a person's crazy mishap over the weekend after the love of their life had literally tossed them into a pool of sharks or listen to someone's great hole in one during their weekend golfing? If they'd feel offended and choose the second, Bill would gladly call them out on their heroic act. 

Look at comedians. People laugh when they tell the story about how they accidentally hooked up with their cousin twice removed from a bachelor's party, but outside of the auditorium, it's considered taboo. Bill didn't like that.

He didn't realize the room had gone deathly silent until he had snapped out of his little daydream. Now, the room truly felt like a funeral.

"Well," Blubs said awkwardly, clearing his throat. "That was...a very strong-voiced opinion, Dipper. Thanks for having the courage for sharing it. Anyone else? Anyone?" he continued, desperate to change the subject.

And so another did, a young girl in her teen years. Eventually, everyone had seemed to take a deep breath and release at the same time, because everything was back to normal. Dull stories on top of even duller progress. Bill bet all his money that no one here actually feels better from last month- they just said it to make Blubs think they were ready to get out of this hellhole. Seriously. Bill would probably do the same. 

Of course, the only person left to talk about their progress was the only one who would probably never speak again after his little spurt of anger. "Dipper?" Blubs asked gently, "Got anything to say to end us off?"

Every chair in the room shifted to look at him. Bill looked at him out of the corner of his eye, barely turning his head an inch. But he knew that Dipper knew he was watching. So Bill gave him a lopsided grin. Dipper's face hardened just a little. The grip he had on his biceps with his crossed arms were visibly strained. "Fine," Dipper gritted out. "I'm...doing fine, Blubs. Thank you for asking."

There was a pause. No one appeared to be breathing.

"Is that...is that all?" Blubs asked him unsurely.

"Yeah." Dipper's voice was tight. 

"Well uh, okay then," Blubs said, trying to keep his voice light. He smoothed out his pants on his thighs, taking a deep breath. "Well, gang, I think we got everyone covered, eh? How about we split into partners for the wire ring making now so we know what to do for tomorrow?"

There were somewhat lighthearted cheers of hurrah. Dipper didn't join in. 

Blubs laughed. "Well, I'm glad to see you guys excited. I'll pick a random person and see who they want to be with. Starting now." He rubbed his hands together. "Eenie meenie, miney, moe...catch a tiger, uh...something, something...Bill! Who is it gonna be?"

"I'll be with Dipper," was his automatic response.

"Of course it would be," Dipper mumbled under his breath. 

"Wonderful! You two will be doing wedding rings! Some couple is getting married soon," Blubs said cheerfully. "Anna, Erica- I didn't ask because I know you two. You two will be doing promise rings. Make it pretty! As for you, Emma..."

* * *

The process of going over how to make wired rings was a lot...longer, than expected. In fact, the sunny sky outside was no longer sunny. Clouds and light drizzle greeted them as they stepped outside to go home for another session closed. And, with just his luck, of course his suit would be so thin that he had to bite his nails into his palms to keep from shaking. The cold is for the weak. 

Dipper stood beside him, holding out his palm to test the heaviness of the rain. He had a hood over his head, and a decently thick black jacket. People were starting to scatter all around them, but somehow Dipper took his sweet time. Knowing Oregon and Gravity Falls specifcally, the rain would turn so much worst the longer they wait. But Dipper stood there, patient and calm in the eyes of a storm.

"What are you still doing here?" Dipper glanced at him in curiosity. 

"I was going to ask you the same thing," Bill said bluntly.

Dipper shrugged, dropping his hand to his side uselessly. "I'm not...really in a hurry to get home."

Bill tried to digest this moment. For the time being, this was the only decent conversation they truly ever had so far. He wondered why that was. "Just so you know, I do feel bad for doing this to you," he said.

The brunet looked at him. Bill swore he saw a hint of a smile there. But before he could know if that smile was for real, Bill grinned himself. And he added, "But you understand, don't ya? I need you to be mine."

Dipper shook his head, the hood over his head slipping off so delicately due to the rain. He turned his eyes away, perhaps a little disappointed. Another gust of wind blew, colder than ever, and this time Bill wasn't fast enough to bite in his nails. He shivered, hard. 

Then Dipper looked back at him. There was no malice in his eyes. No disgust or wariness or hatred. Just pity. Bill could take anything else in this world, but never pity. 

Without a word, Dipper unzipped his jacket. He slipped out of it, leaving himself in a bright blue shirt. He took the journal from the inside pocket and his iPod, slipping them into his pants pockets instead. And with Bill's gaping mouth, Dipper tossed it right over to him, letting it land over Bill's shoulder.

Snapping out of his surprise, Bill gripped the jacket, and unfolded it to slip into it himself. "You may deny it all you want, Pine Tree, but you have more class than I ever could with manners," he laughed, just as he let his last arm into the woolly sleeve. 

"Shut it," Dipper said curtly. He put the journal on top of his head, his bright blue shirt turning a navy color to the now pouring rain. "I don't like you, Bill Cipher, but I won't go down to your level. Bring it back to me next week. It's the only jacket that fits me anymore." He didn't let Bill answer, before he took off blindly to the direction of his car. 

Shaking his head, Bill turned around to where Kryptos should be picking him up. But he felt something heavier, something that wasn't the rain, hit his ankle. He looked down. A light blue ball, dirtied by the mud.

A little boy had finally wandered nearby, chasing after the green ball that was slowly bouncing off away from Bill. The child didn't seem to care that he was running in the rain- all that mattered to him was a toy that would probably be broken the next day by a very cruel older brother. Bill went down to grab it. The boy skidded in his tracks. Bill looked up at the little boy, who was now staring at him, the fear evident in his eyes. Fearful of this man, but curious, just as every kid was nowadays. Bill crouched to his level, and lifted up his eye patch and grinned. The child ran, screaming for help and his intentions to get his favorite little ball all gone.

A little voice in his head told him to run after this boy, or to at least toss the ball back. Just to be kind, just this once, just like Dipper had. Not too kind like a humanitarian would be, but enough that he wouldn't be seen as a demon again. He thought against it. Being considerate would not stop a demon from being a demon.


	7. It's Okay to Say You've Got a Weak Spot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got a massive headache, but here ya go. Our poor darlings get tangled up in a deal. I took a summer wire ring making class for like an hour, doing it is easier than actually writing it in words, who woulda known D: Next chapter will come up faster now that I'm taking a break from work! :P

**SURNAME AND GIVEN NAME OF FIRST CONTACT:** _Pacifica Elise Northwest_

 **SURNAME AND GIVEN NAME OF EMERGENCY CONTACT:** _N/A_

 **DIAGNOSIS/TREATMENT:** _Clinical_ _depression and anxiety. Past history of bulimia and self-harm. Case of migraines and insomnia /_ _[prescription drugs given by doctor] Support group for an estimated six months._

 **AUTHORIZE THE ESTABLISHMENT:** _Trust Falls. Gravity Falls, Oregon._

 **PATIENT'S NOTES:** _I hate everything about this._

* * *

Dipper trimmed the end of his wire, wincing as he realized that he nearly cut off his fingernail in the process. Meanwhile, Bill Cipher sat beside him doing the complete opposite of his careful planning, messily wrapping a coil of wires around a yellow bead with a squinted eye. Their table looked like a nuclear blast of beads and sharp wires thanks to Bill. 

"Hey Pine Tree," Bill called happily, looking up from his so-called masterpiece of a craft. "Hand me those chompers! I think I'm almost done." He made a close-open gesture with his fingers towards their pile of pliers and cutters. 

Instead, Dipper pushed them away from his partner with a dead look. "Bill, you're not allowed to have them," he said for the nineteenth time that hour. And yes, he counted.

Bill frowned, wrapping his hands around his mandrel to keep his wires in place. And for the record, with how many ends were sticking out from his little spindle of a ring, Dipper doubted trying to mesh them together like that would help in anyway. "Aw, what are you, some humanitarian of the four empires?" Bill moaned. "It was an accident! You believe me, don't cha?"

"Please, you could tell me one plus one was two and I'd still double check it," Dipper said dryly.

"All of you are acting like I'm a five year old on house arrest," Bill grumbled. He tried to reach over their table to take one, but Dipper was prepared. Dipper batted Bill's hand away with pliers of his own, and Bill cradled his poor knuckles close to his chest with a hiss. 

"Not funny now, is it?" Dipper mocked. 

"It's funny when I do it," Bill argued, "just not when you hoodlums hurt me."

Who the hell uses the word 'hoodlum'? Not even Stanford was that old. Dipper eyed his partner as he took up another long string of wire, daring him to try and lunge again for another cutter. But Bill stared right back, unrelenting and full of childish mischief. He drummed his fingers on the table, almost as if he was waiting. Bill was what- twenty eight? He was much older than Dipper yet he acted like four year old and an eighty year old fused into one singular man known as Bill Cipher.

"For fuck's sake, Bill," Dipper grumbled, slamming the wire in front of himself. "Will you quit that?"

"Quit what?" he asked innocently. The smile that dangled at the corner of his lips was all that Dipper could take. The guy was just _begging_ Dipper to say something, to do anything to cause a scene and make his day that much better. How was he supposed to be okay with this guy for the next _six months_?

The words were already full in his mouth, ready to spit out all over Bill's face. Yet Dipper held his tongue. He let out a loosened breath through his nose, shaking his head just slightly so that Bill barely noticed. Then he pushed his reading glasses back up his nose and began to work. Unlike old Billy here, he was actually the mature adult at their table. From the top of Dipper's glasses, Bill suddenly looked disappointed in his lack of drama. For a couple moments, he just stared at Dipper, as if waiting for a delayed reaction. Then seeing that Dipper was determined to not talk to him, Bill propped his chin on his palm and looked out into the distance thoughtfully.

Just as Dipper's life went, things didn't go the way Dipper wanted it to be. To be plain, Bill was talking yet again.

"Didn't take you for a four eyes, Four Eyes," Bill said blithely, eyes shifting over to Dipper, "Are they just for reading those giant textbooks of yours or are they permanent?"

"You saw me without glasses before." Dipper shrugged his shoulders. "The answer is pretty obvious. Unless you're also mentally retarded too."

"Ouch." Bill laughed merrily at his jab, shifting his whole body to Dipper. He moved his arm back to stay limp against the table, fingers silently playing with the yellow orbs gathered for his ring. "The Pine Tree has spunk, _I see_ ," he purred, his gaze just as intense as it was before, "I'd ask you when you got those glasses, but considering how much you're squinting at everything you see, I'd say they were pretty recent myself, huh? Am I accurate?"

" _Sure_ ," Dipper said simply. Suspicious, since Bill's harmless topics never ended harmless, Dipper arched an eyebrow at his curious table partner. "Bill, why are you asking me-?"

"It's pretty straightforward, actually!" Bill interrupted, the uneasy smile not once leaving his face. "Your sister had glasses, didn't she? Like actual prescription, all around I-have-to-wear-this-all-the-time glasses. Don't twins have the same genetics when it comes to the eyeballs? You seem the type of person to stare down a math textbook until four AM, you barbarous eyeball user. Just curious, that's all!"

Dipper froze. He stared at Bill, almost at a lost for words. "And how the hell did you know that?" was what he was meaning to ask. Sadly, for a guy like him, it came out as, "Actually, my family always took away all my reading materials as soon as it hits ten on the clock."

Bill nodded as if that was crucial knowledge. He kept playing with the beads on the table, and Dipper doubted he realized or cared that they were falling off the side. "Probably did you some good too," he commented. "Can you imagine being blind at your age already? How else can you see the wonders of the world if you're blind! Like the art of self-flagellating, as a worthy example." Dipper was only ashamed that he knew what that was in the first place. For some reason it reminded him of his middle school years, when he searched up what 'vore' was. Now _that_ was a trip to memory lane.

"One more hour!" Blubs called. "After that, you're submitting what ever you have. You can have any free time if you finish early, folks!"

"You hear that, Cipher?" Dipper said. "Get. To. _Work._ "

Bill frowned. "You're not the boss of me."

"Sweet _hell_ , Bill, you're like a four year old," Dipper moaned. 

"Well maybe I'll stop if you actually give me something to _do,_ " Bill challenged. "Like, hmm, I don't know, _letting me finally cut off the excess for my ring_?"

Dipper glanced down at his creation, even though technically he already knew what it looked like. Just as he suspected. A bundle of wires and the bead in the middle had somehow escaped its prison. Dipper looked up at a proud grinning Bill, unamused. "Seriously? Even if you cut the excess of, it'll turn out looking like a piece of turd."

"You say I'm the four year old yet you use the word 'turd' instead of the sophisticated 'shit' or 'feces'," Bill hummed.

"Hey, don't make this about me! Fix your stupid ring and maybe I'll help!" Dipper snapped, his face burning with slight embarrassment. 

" _Fix your stupid ring and maybe I'll help_ ," Bill mocked his voice-cracking tone. 

"Why are you so immature?" Dipper groaned.

" _Why are you so immature_?" Bill mocked yet again.

"Stop!"

" _Stop_!"

"That's it. I'm not doing this."

" _That's it. I'm not doing this._ "

"Bill Cipher, you half-breed monkey, _stop copying me_!"

"Okay."

"Wh-?"

Suddenly more taken aback by Bill's sudden pure smile, Dipper looked behind him just in time to feel Blubs heavily put a hand on Dipper's shoulder. He made a squeaky noise as if he was a rubber duck, and Bill's smile threatened to spill into his infamous grins. "Well, what do we have here?" Blubs chuckled. "A confused but optimistic and friendly gentleman as Bill here, and a pessimistic and rude bully like Dipper. What seems to be the problem?"

"You could say we're like the yin and yang," Dipper said sarcastically. 

Ignoring Dipper's side comment, Bill's eyes drooped in slight concern as he turned to look at Blubs. "I don't know what's wrong, Mr. Blubs," Bill said melodramatically. _Oh lord,_ Dipper thought. "He just started shouting at me! I was just asking for help, since this is the first time I've ever made something like this."

"Wh-? Are you kidding me?! Bill was the one who-" Dipper sputtered.

Blubs squeezed his shoulder in a death grip and Dipper nearly wheezed. "Oh, I think I've heard enough from you, Pines," Blubs said disapprovingly. "I brought Bill here because he felt like you welcomed him the most but you turn around and stab him in the darn back! What do you have to say for yourself?"

 _"I say fuck Bill and the economy that forced me in here_ , _"_  Dipper nearly screamed. Instead he said, as calmly as he could, "Nothing- uh, sir. I'm just under a lot of stress today."

Bill cocked an eyebrow at him and Dipper scowled at him. His face became expressionless once more when Blubs began to talk. "Stress, huh? Well, if you want, you can put off this project and I'll give you a pass to maybe take up one of the newspapers in the corner of the room. Maybe reading can help you put off that stress. Just not at poor Bill here, okay?" he laughed.

Dipper, suddenly full of spite, took his ring off his mandrel and held it up for Blubs to see. He was reshaping it by the time Blubs had come over, and now it was all ready to go. It had a blue bead in the middle, the swirls inside it a darker blue, as if it were a cat's eye. He liked it enough, at least. It was supposed to be a model for a wedding ring, and he knew he couldn't fuck this up. Still, if he had the choice on his own wedding, he would never put the trust in some random depressed stranger to make a ring from scratch to forever hold his peace. He'd give the dude some creativity brownie points though.

"Good golly..." Blubs whistled lowly, impressed enough to lower his shades (who even wears shades indoors?) to take a closer look at his craftsmanship. "This your first try, Pines?"

"Yeah- uh, yes," Dipper said awkwardly. His arm ached a little for holding it up. 

"Your crafting is remarkable, Pines! In fact, it looks so much better than the guy I commissioned to make my own wedding rings for." He chuckled a little at the irony. "Are you sure you don't want to take up some sort of workmanship for a career choice? I would've rewound time to ask you to make those rings of mine instead of the idiot that misspelled 'Durland'. What was he, an ex-Starbucks employee?" he exclaimed.

"It's just ah, simple crafting...sir," Dipper said, adding the 'sir' to try and gain Blubs's good spirits back. "It's nothing-"

"Nothing? Look at Bill, the poor guy is struggling harder than anyone in the darn room!" At that, Bill looked down at his own bundle of a ring and looked a tad bit offended. Dipper tried not to snicker. "How about you give me that craft of yours and I'll put it somewhere safe to be shipped off tomorrow, while you go ahead and help Bill in the meantime? When he finishes, you two could go play a board game. Go Fish, or something."

Dipper's eyes went wide, and it was Bill's turn not to snicker. Instead he smiled bright and innocently, looking up at Blubs and batted his eyes to show his interest. "Blubs, you said I could just-" Dipper said.

"Well, don't listen to that then. Change of plans," Blubs barked. "With how long it took to make yours, I don't think helping Bill would be a problem, now would it?"

"Well no, but-" 

"Then get to it, Pines!" Blubs laughed along with Bill, who Dipper suddenly wanted to punch more than ever. "I'll be back to check on his progress. And believe me, Dipper, if I see any more problems come up with Bill, I'll be sorry but I'd have to add an extension to your stay here at Trust Falls for irrational behavior."

"Blubs!" Dipper was red in the face. It was hard to tell, really, if that was from frustration or embarrassment. Bill, on the other hand, didn't seem to have a problem with this set-up, not at all. He was grinning again, not caring if Blubs saw him drop that innocent act because all of it was already far too gone in the game. He might as well kick up his feet to the table and lean back. 

Blubs didn't answer him, instead turning right around to amble away to help another table of struggling kiddos. By the looks of it, Dipper was truly the only one who actually paid close attention to how to actually make an efficient looking wire wrapped ring. Dipper's frustration bubbled in his stomach, and he whipped his head around to look at Bill, his eyes churning with the hate that was steaming inside. Bill's eyes widened for a moment in surprise at Dipper's choice of emotions, but the guy did nothing but stare right back.

"We're using the cutters," Dipper gritted out. "I'm using them, not you, but it's for your craft. If you touch it, if you do _anything_ that I told you specifically not to do, Bill I promise to whoever is in charge above, that-"

"Sheesh, kid, I get it!" Bill rolled his eyes skyward, leaning back in his chair. "You're more dramatic than me sometimes, and I'm the king of drama. S'what do you want me to do? Put all these wires in my mouth to get rid of or do it the boring way?"

"The boring way. The trash, Bill," Dipper said crankily. "And get a different color for your bead. We're making models for a couple's wedding ring. I don't think they'd appreciate blue with yellow." Or why they made crappy wired ones for their wedding in the first place. But hey, Dipper considered it still to be their fault.

"You're kidding me, Pine Tree," Bill chuckled. He held up a yellow bead. "This totally goes with blue!"

"Bill, are you colorblind? Or that stupid?"

"Don't call me stupid, you can only count up to seven digits of pi," Bill said victoriously.

"Okay, that's not my fault, I don't have good memory! You only need the first couple!" Dipper snapped. "Wait, why are we even fighting about this?" he added, slightly annoyed.

"Dunno. You started it."

" _Bill._ "

"Okay, fine, fine," he grumbled. He got up from his chair, scooping his failed first draft into his arms like it was a dead soldier. Before he pivoted and left their table, Bill added over his shoulder, "Just so y'know, yellow goes with blue because it's _our_ colors." And that was basically proof that it shouldn't. Very counterproductive, Bill.

While Bill was gone, Dipper began doing the first steps for faster production. Wrapping the silver wire mindlessly around the mandrel, Dipper barely noticed when Bill got back, dropping a sack of beads in front of him and bringing his plastic chair closer to Dipper noisily. Dipper only looked up when he finished, eyeing the sack with little to no trust in Bill. When he opened it up, he was right. They were darker colored yellow orbs, and Dipper looked over at his trustee with an unamused look. "Really?"

"You said something that it would go with, so I brought a darker one." His wolfish grin made Dipper want to smack him across the nose, even though technically he already did on a daily basis. 

"Anything _but_ yellow, Bill. Get something else."

"Pine Tree, you can't be _that_ heartless, can you?" Bill pouted. "I picked it because I thought it would look pretty! I never judge your choice in clothes, don't I?"

"You do, actually." Nevertheless, Dipper was too tired to argue and he picked up one of the larger orbs to plop in the middle. He couldn't think of a time that Bill didn't criticize his choice in clothing, or criticize how ugly and morbid Wendy's hat looked on a person like him. He theorized that Bill thought above himself, with all his fancy suits and clothing and all. Too bad- not everyone has the time to just get up in the morning and think, "Hey, I'd like to wear a suit again today!" Or the money, for that matter.

Dipper and Bill became silent as soon as Dipper said those words. He started to wrap the bead in place, tongue out and forehead puckered in concentration for what he was doing. Bill watched what he was doing, and Dipper didn't know if it was because he was bored and staring out into space like Bill usually did or because Bill genuinely wanted to see how Dipper made these kinds of crafts. The bead fell off a couple times due to his shaky hands, but Bill usually caught them or more often, let them fall to the floor for someone else to pick up and got another from the sack instead. Dipper was too lazy to call him out on it.

After wrapping the bead a couple times without it jumping off, Dipper released a breath and stopped squaring his shoulders. He flicked the wires around the bead to make sure it wasn't loose in its cage, and nearly allowed himself to celebrate when it was secure. A few more coiling later, Dipper was now doing the last checkups on it before letting it down on the table in front of them in smug success. His first one took longer than he wanted it to be, all because of Bill's interruptions and all. This one probably only took him fifteen minutes at most, which showed that Bill being quiet could go a very long way. 

"That's it?" Bill grumbled. "It looks so easy."

"Says the one who couldn't do it."

"Hey, don't look so disappointed in my ring making!" Bill argued. "I'll have a professional do ours."

Dipper raised an eyebrow in question and said, "But doesn't it make it better if it comes from the heart?" Then boom, right after it comes out of his mouth does he then realize what he just did. Bill's grin took a shocking edge to it, almost as it he was pleasantly surprised himself. Dipper shook his head frantically, trying to open his mouth to defend himself. Nothing came out.

"Well aren't you the straightforward type?" Bill purred. "You surprise me more and more everyday. What's your ring size?"

"You're not making one for me. Not ever, Bill."

"Oh, I know. Completely unrelated to the flirting, promise!"

"Then why are you asking?"

"Jeez kid, you're more paranoid than my uncle on shark week," Bill said sarcastically. He stopped leaning back on his chair, propping his chin back on his palm with a cat's smile on his face. It was a little better than the wolf grin he had, but just by a little. "I only asked because I wanna play a game with you. Ya know, since you finished my little arts and craft there for me already. I didn't ask you to, by the way, so you can't blame me if I take all the credit!" He let out a little chortle of a laugh.

"What game?" Dipper asked, still somewhat a little suspicious. Blubs still hadn't come by to check on them for the last time. If he already had, Dipper would've found his way out the door and never looked back at Bill's face for another second longer. But since he wanted to make a good impression and leave this place no longer than he had to- he needed to make a sacrifice and that was to talk to Bill like a decent human.

"Twenty questions!" Bill exclaimed. "Since we don't know each other that well, I thought why not? But I think you already know me well enough that I don't like simple games." The last sentence took a sinister tone, and Dipper decided that he would most definitely not like to play no matter what it was.

"Go Fish. Leave it or take it. I'm not summoning Satan with you," Dipper said dryly.

"You're funny, Pine Tree," Bill said merrily. "We all know Satan isn't real! He's just a figment of every parent's storytelling to blame someone of their children's sins, and if that isn't one of the most pathetic things you've ever heard, I don't know what is!"

Dipper just stared at him silently. Bill, noticing that Dipper wasn't speaking like he was supposed to, spoke himself to fill in their silence. "Play twenty questions with me, Pine Tree. Except we make a bet out of it."

"Do you even know _how_ to play twenty questions?" 

"Do I look like someone who doesn't, Pine Tree?" Bill chirped. "But c'mon, aren't you curious as to what I'm dealing you with right now? Because I know you're going to be _really_ interested."

"What is it, Bill?" Dipper said tiredly. If it was money, he barely cared. He had Pacifica for that very reason. Power was with Wendy and her supernatural lumberjack skills. Bill literally had nothing to offer him.

"If you win, I can't bother you anymore. No more sitting here beside you, no more support group for me in the first place, and I'll never be in the same room as you."

Well, that took a turn. Dipper almost thought he didn't hear Bill correctly. He gave him a deadpanned expression, but said nothing for Bill to continue. "If _I_ win this little bet of ours on the other hand," Bill said almost jeeringly, "You need to text me. I can text you all I want. You can't push me away because believe me, Dipper, doing that has more consequences than you can _ever_ imagine. And most of all, you go on a date with me."

The request was so absurd and so sudden that Dipper actually laughed out loud. But Bill stared at him, as if waiting for him to calm down and he suspected at least a reaction like this. "You're joking with me, Bill," Dipper guffawed. "You can't be serious."

"But I am." Bill cocked his head to the side. He smiled. For some reason, it looked _genuine._ Dipper doubted it really was honest and not something to make Dipper want to believe him. That theory was uncovered more when Bill spoke again. "You're not _scared,_ are you?" 

"Me? Bill, you gotta be kidding me, man," Dipper said. "Why do you suddenly want to make a deal like that, anyway?" It wasn't like Bill thought of it on the spot.

Bill's shoulders lifted up in a half-assed shrug. "Well, you clearly don't like me. I clearly like tormenting you. We both have different goals in life and I wanted to see which of us the world wants to be in favor with."

"We're not doing this, Bill. Absolutely not," Dipper barked. "Just get us some cards or-"

"All I'm saying is that you're _scared,_ my dear Pine Tree," Bill drawled. "How can someone be so pathetic that they're scared of a date?"

"Most women." Dipper scoffed. "With good reason. For all I know, you're a rapist with seventeen murders under your belt." He looked at Bill up and down. "And I'm seventy-five percent sure you murdered more than seventeen, huh?"

Bill laughed. "Are you saying you can't handle that, Boy Genius?"

"I'm saying that I think this is stupid," Dipper said honestly. "We don't need to play an even stupider game to make the other work harder to get what they want. Unless, you're Bill Cipher and therefore thinking you're entitled to getting everything you want in life. Oh wait."

Bill's eyes darkened. But it was back to being all happy-pappy the moment Dipper blinked. "Well, you're bored aren't you? So am I. Just pass the time with me, Pine Tree. There's nothing you can do wrong with that!" he drawled.

"How does this even work?" Dipper said, exasperated.

"Easy! I'll get one of those miniature whiteboards Blubs always hides from us and we'll take turns being 'it'. Twenty questions of yes or no for whatever we wrote on the whiteboard. It can't be anything longer than a word, and that word has to apply to something about yourself. Two rounds. If you know my word, it's your point, and vise versa. Obviously, a tie breaker can ensue. Do we have a _deal_?" And then he stuck out his hand.

Dipper took it, and shook. It was weird, but by now he should know that Bill was too. And anyway- he had nothing to lose. Make his life even more like hell, or just less. Bill smiled at his choice in participating, and got up in promise of a whiteboard and marker for their anti-cheating technique. He brought along his ring with him to give to Blubs, in hopes to make sure Blubs doesn't bother them and see the most heated twenty questions game in the world.

Bill came back a moment later, plopping the small board on their messy table with a smirk of the century. "Wanna go first or be the chicken of our flaying?"

Dipper resisted the urge to roll his eyes upward, taking the board and marker and sitting it up right. He ripped the cap off with his teeth and wrote down his favorite musical artist. Which was, of course, BABBA. He put down the marker and his board face down, and looked at Bill. Hey, he had to take one for the team. He didn't care if Bill thought lowly of himself anymore after this- BABBA and having Bill out of his life was two things in the world he loved more than their hit single Disco Girl.

One corner of Bill's lips twitched a little. "Is it a color?"

"No."

"Nickname?"

"Definitely no. And even if it was yes, it would be too obvious."

"No comments, just yes or no, Pine Tree," Bill reminded him. "Is it a type of food?"

"Nope."

"Yes or no, not nope," Bill scolded. "A type of medieval torture?"

"Okay, what the fuck and no."

" _Language_ ," Bill scolded even more. "An artist then?"

Now it was Dipper's turn to smile a little. "English," he said simply. "And yes."

Bill looked a little surprised, but overcame it instantly. Eyes lit eagerly, he asked, "A painting type of artist or a musical artist?"

"Yes or no, Billy," Dipper mocked. 

Bill didn't seem even a little bit offended. He just said, "A musical artist?"

"Yes."

He grinned, full on. Dipper was almost nervous for having it end so early, but at the same time glad. That meant Bill would lose faster, and he was more than glad for that to happen. One look at Dipper suggested hipster music of the Greek gods or the darkest of the emo music on his bad days. Only Mabel and Stan knew of his obsession with them, and both parties weren't...present.

"Is it BABBA?"

Dipper's blood ran cold. The victorious shout he was supposed to scream died out in his throat.

No. He didn't. He _didn't._

"No," Dipper sputtered. Bill raised both his eyebrows, the first in forever Dipper had seem him look unamused. "It's not- pffft- are you kidding me, Bill? You _got_ to be kidding. Do you hear yourself? Pffffft- BABBA! As if!"

"Has anyone ever told you that you can't lie your way into a club?" Bill said in amusement. "Flip your board over, Pine Tree!"

Defeated, Dipper did. And there, in bold and underlined three times as if to mock Bill if it did come to the board flipping, was the five letter word of an artist that would soon be Dipper's doom.

Bill grew quiet. So did Dipper. He was beyond grateful that the buzz of chatter and curse words as people tried to keep their rings intact was still as loud as ever around them. Any silence would make Dipper go crazy. What was Bill thinking right now? 

Slowly, and as if he was doing it to be dramatic (and to piss Dipper off probably), Bill looked up at him. And teasingly, his voice low but loud enough for Dipper to hear his singing, " _Disco girl, coming through..._ "

"That- that girl is you." Dipper blinked. He said it monotonously, the words coming to him so easily that he knew he could do it in his sleep. He hasn't heard someone else sing it since he was younger. The adrenaline kicked in, the rush of excitement finally getting to him, and he finally sang, finally somewhat on key and his enthusiasm evident, " _That girl is youuu_!" 

Bill beamed, a smile so different from his vicious little grins. He looked ecstatic to finally see Dipper looking at him with something else that wasn't a glare, and they both joined in to sing, " _OOH OOOH, OOH OOOH_!"

"Hot Belgian waffles, Pine Tree!" Bill laughed. His laugh was booming, a little on the snobby side but enough that Dipper realized that this was the first time he actually heard Bill laugh. And heard himself laugh after months too. People gave them crazy glances here and there, but Dipper doubted neither of them could care less. "That was _adorable_!"

"Hey, you sang it too," Dipper argued. "You can't single me out like that, man."

"Sure, fine, okay. That was quite the concert we gave everyone else, am I right or am I right?" Bill guffawed. He took the board and marker from Dipper, wiping away the word BABBA with the side of his fist. "Alright, my turn," he said. Then he scribbled something down messily, and put the board down. He thread his fingers together, and looked at Dipper with an innocent smile. 

"Is it medieval torture?"

"Yes."

"Does it stretch the victim?"

"No."

"Any type of...creative impalement then?"

"Yes."

"Uh...the Judas Cradle?"

"Yes."

"Come on, that was too easy," Dipper groaned. "You gave that to me so we can have a tie breaker!"

Bill grinned. "Not my fault you looked when I accidentally tilted the whiteboard to give you the first letter of my word."

"I did not!"

"Yes you did," Bill said giddily. "No need to deny it, Pine Tree! I'm not a lawyer. I mean, obviously I could hire one, but what's the fun in that? I cheat all the time too! Both in games and with people!"

"I didn't need to know that, but thanks," Dipper said sarcastically. "So I guess I'm the one with the word to write?"

"You don't have to. I could do it," Bill replied. "I already have the board!"

"True enough," Dipper admitted. That, and he kinda wanted to see what else Bill wanted to put. With his first answer, it would definitely be easy. Bill took back the board and erased his previous answer, flipping the marker over and over in his fingers to think of his own word. For once, Dipper wondered if Bill was actually nervous this time. If he really did want to bother Dipper this much, Dipper doubted he'd let it go with a simple game like this. Now Dipper was suddenly regretting letting him choose the word.

"You know, my favorite movie is A Serbian Film," Bill said happily and distractedly. "My playlist online consists of bunny decay, people being stoned to death, pus, especially when it comes from the nose from those surgery videos, and-"

"I did _not_ need to know that."

"Well, if you want easier guessing, you have to have a bit of a clue about me, don't you?" Bill said innocently. As if Dipper already didn't know. He turned the board back down. Dipper didn't even realized he wrote it already. "Go ahead. Twenty questions, Dipper."

Dipper swallowed thickly. The unsettling feeling that this was a dangerous game to play after all was getting to him. "Is it...alive?"

"Odd to ask, but no."

"Is it an object?" Dipper was trying to narrow it down as possible here, as smart as he could.

Bill stare at him in amusement, hands clasped and threaded on the table. He hesitated. Dipper didn't know why. "Well, depends," Bill said cryptically. "It could be if you find it in the right way."

Dipper decided not to prod. Bill could as easily make this harder for him than it already was. He wiped his palms on his thighs, not realizing how sweaty they were until he felt that his pants were now a little damp with it. He wanted this man out of his life for good. A date with him? That would be _hell._ Total and complete torture on his life that was already going downhill. 

But then again, Bill knew what Disco Girl was. He sang it with him, and not once judged Dipper on it because well, he knew it too. What else didn't Dipper know? What if Bill was actually...well, nice to be around?

No. Ugh. Terrible mindset.

"Is it something shareable? With like, friends or something?"

Bill hesitated again. Why was he hesitating? Why wasn't Bill smiling anymore? "Sure. Sure, let's go with that."

Dipper was getting suspicious. Was Bill regretting this whole thing? He was too, anyway. He thought this was ridiculous, but this was Bill's whole idea in the first place. Why was he acting like this was suddenly the end of life as he knew it?

"Is it music?"

"No. Yes, in the sense that you could listen to it."

Dipper licked his bottom lip and looked down at their untidy table. You could share it, listen to it, but it wasn't an object- kinda? At least, it wasn't alive. What thing exists like that?

The sudden realization struck him and he looked up at Bill with wide, eager eyes. "Is it a book?"

Bill loosened a laugh with his nose, shoulders slightly shaking. "No. Yes. I mean, it probably is."

"Probably? What kind-?" Dipper stopped. He wanted to smack himself in the forehead. He studied things like this in _high school,_ and it was his passion phase for a time. Damn it, damn it, _damn it._ This is why he dropped out of college- he was so _stupid._ The excitement made up for it though. He had it now, and he nearly bounced off his seat from the spur of it. 

"Is it a poem, Bill?"

"Yes." Bill was grinning again. Which was strange, considering that meant Dipper was this close to winning this stupid bet of a deal.

Dipper almost began celebrating, but he stopped himself. So it was a poem. But there were so many poems in the world, most of them not even _published._ For all he knew, Bill wrote down a poem he wrote on a napkin in fifth grade. That explains the smile, at least.

"Okay, there are well over a million poems, Cipher, how am I-?" 

"Fine. Lemme give you a hint. This is a poem by the man who married his teenaged cousin when he was twenty seven. Good thing I'm out of that age range for that to happen to me, huh?" 

Oh. Edgar Allan Poe. Nice taste, Dipper admitted, but that narrows it down only by a little bit. Mr. Poe wrote so many poems that Dipper could barely keep track of the list he was forming in his brain. So he just began listing them out loud.

"The Raven?"

"What do I look like to you, a poem amateur? No," he chuckled. 

"Er- uh- Spirits of the Dead?"

"Nope."

"The Sleeper?"

"Nopety nope."

"The Happiest Day?"

"No."

He said a couple more, all of them "no"s until he only had three questions left. Three questions. That was it. Dipper almost screamed out of the disappointment he had at himself. "The Haunted Palace?" Dipper asked, almost desperately.

"Someone's looking desperate," Bill sang. "But no! Think _smaller,_ Pine Tree. Look at me. What do you think I would spend my precious time for?"

"I am! I'm listing all the ones I think you'd listen to, but just-!" Dipper said in frustration. _Just what?_ he almost heard Bill say back to him. He didn't know Bill. He knew all these things Bill was disgustingly into, but...

For shits and giggles, Dipper took a deep breath and breathed out, "Annabel Lee."

Bill's eyes flashed like lightning. And like lightning, it was gone before Dipper saw its bigger frame. But he saw a glimpse of it, and that was all he needed. He was getting closer. So much more closer.

Is that why Bill was so afraid? Was it because Dipper almost won, or because it was a poem that truly, truly took Bill's heart? If he even had one.

"One more," Bill said softly. He leaned in between them. "One more. Take your shot, Pine Tree."

"A- A Dream," Dipper blurted out. It was the only one out of the top of his head.

Bill froze. "Is that...your final answer, Pine Tree?" He sounded uneasy. Dipper almost felt himself freeze, but this time out of uncontrolled happiness. 

"Yes." He breathed shakily. "Yes!"

And then Bill's uneasy facade dropped, and he grinned. Dipper staggered at his reaction. "Well, here's your _answer_!" Bill nearly, practically shouted. He turned the board over, almost shoving it directly under Dipper's nose and he stood up, towering over Dipper to what? Scare him even more? Because Dipper didn't think anything else was scarier than having to already be near him than he already had to.

A Dream Within a Dream by Edgar Allan Poe. _A Dream Within a Dream by Edgar Allan Poe_. He had the first two words right and not the rest. He was this close. _This damn close._

Bill leaned in close to him, taking Dipper's limp wrist and put a crumpled piece of paper in it. His number, Dipper assumed. He even came prepared. "I better hear my phone buzzing with a hello from my favorite person tonight," he said slowly. There was that smile on his face again. So genuine, so happy. But so, so _punchable_. "A deal's a deal, Pine Tree. I bet you're going to search up all the facts about me I told you today so you could get to know me better too!"

"No," Dipper snapped. " _No,_ as if. Yes, I'll be calling you and going on that date, but believe me when I say that would be as far as I'd go to be seen in public with _you_."

"No need to be so rude, Pine Tree!" Bill said happily. "Because remember, _I choose the date._  You want that to be hell for you, or the kind that would finally give you butterflies in your cold, dead heart?"

"Either way, I won't be enjoying it," Dipper snapped again.

"Yes you will." Bill's eyes turned to slits. Dipper almost expected him to lunge at his throat. " _Yes you will._ "

"We're almost done here, folks!" Blubs called happily, cutting their tension back to the sea of reality.

* * *

 ****Dipper laid on his bed, laptop on one side of him, and his phone in his hands. It was two in the morning and he couldn't sleep, just as usual. But this was for a completely different reason. Usually, it was only insomnia and the case of too much caffeine. But now it was insomnia and confusion.

Damn it, Bill.

They were walking home, already near the parking lot and about to go home. Bill was trying to be a gentleman to do so, but Dipper knew it was just to piss him off. Bill was in the middle of promising him the night of his life, when everything had got so much more confusing than it already was.

 _A cripple_ , a guy screamed at the person in the wheelchair right behind them. It was Trust Falls- something like that was bound to happen. Dipper had cringed, kept his head down, and kept walking.

But he had to stop. It wasn't like Bill for him to stop in the middle of a sentence he knew had potential to piss Dipper off. But he did, and Dipper didn't understand why he could connect it so well with Bill's choice of poetry. But that was all it. If he had connected Bill's personality in a web like he used to do in his mystery phase when he was twelve, everything would make sense but two. The poem and his sudden snap that day.

He looked so furious when he turned to face the guy. Bill demanded him to say it again. To tell it to his face instead of the one who couldn't talk back. And when the asshole did, Bill just _snapped._

It took seven nurses and Dipper to calm him down, but Dipper barely helped, if he said so himself. All he did was ask Bill, nearly shouting back in his face for Bill to listen.  "What happened?" Dipper had asked him, " _Why the hell did you do that,_   _Bill_?"

But Bill growled, so animalistic and so un- _Bill_ that Dipper gaped at him. He felt his own anxiety attack climb his throat just right after it happened, from something so rash and something not coming from him for once. Bill had snapped at him to go home. He smacked the arm that Dipper was trying to reach out with, something he didn't even realize he was doing until it stung with Bill's dismissive slap. He marched off in the other direction, and that was the end of that.

It was so quick and sudden and so startling that Dipper just...why? They were fine for a moment then Bill...

Dipper wondered about Bill's place at Trust Falls again. He saw Bill near the building during their first meeting too, meaning that it wasn't the first time Bill was there when he oh-so decided to join Dipper's support group. Obviously, the guy had problems of his own. Bipolar, maybe? Anger issues? Oh, anger issues could be a definite one. 

He searched up Bill's poem too, if that was worth noting. He's read it before, but he wanted to read it again. It was interesting enough that it got Dipper to wonder even more about Bill. That guy was a mystery in itself. But, not enough of a mystery that Dipper was already used to his antics. For example, his phone number. Not only did he give Dipper his number, but he gave wrote it down on a picture of him in front of a _fireplace,_ looking seductive and something out of a comedy movie. 

So, here was Dipper Pines. Thumbs hovering over his keypad on a phone number he checked and double checked and triple checked and- the point was made. Sighing through his nose, he composed a message.

 **Dipper Pines |** **Sent 2:33:45**     
_Hey, is this Bill?_

Not even a minute later, his message popped up as read. And not a minute after that, a link was sent to him. Dipper's brow knitted in confusion. He tapped it. Then exited out right away. It was a video of a rabbit decaying into the ground. Wrinkling his nose, he composed his next text.

 **Dipper Pines | Sent 2:34:12**  
_Nvm it's you._

The three dots popped up. Then disappeared. They came back and a text appeared below his. 

 **Lord Bill Fuck Wad | Sent 2:34:56**  
_HAHAHAHA AT LEAST I GOT YOU GOOD DIDN'T I???_

 **Dipper Pines | Sent 2:35:11**  
_Why the caps?_

 **Lord Bill Fuck Wad | Sent 2:35:39**  
_WHY NOT? I THINK IN CAPS._

 **Dipper Pines | Sent 2:35:52**  
_At this point, I'm not surprised._

 **Dipper Pines | Sent 2:36:03**  
_Bill, can I ask you something?_

 **Lord Bill Fuck Wad | Sent 2:36:18  
** _SOMETHING WRONG? NO WAIT EVERYTHINGS ALWAYS WRONG WITH U._

 **Dipper Pines | Sent 2:36:34**  
_Har har, I'm laughing so hard. I'm serious, Bill._

 **Lord Bill Fuck Wad | Sent 2:36:51  
** _OKAY FINE, WHAT??_

 **Dipper Pines | Sent 2:37:08**  
_Why did you hit that guy??? When we were going home from the session, I mean._

Dipper waited. And he waited. Not once did those three dots of doom appear. For a second, he thought that Bill asleep on him, too bored of their conversation to continue. But then they _did_ appear. Then disappear right after. Then reappear. The cycle continued for a while, before Bill finally replied.

 **Lord Bill Fuck Wad | Sent 2:38:43  
** _GO TO SLEEP, PINE TREE._

 **Dipper Pines | Sent 2:38:54**  
_No, tell me first._

 **Lord Bill Fuck Wad | Sent 2:39:10**  
_IT'S TWO IN THE MORNING, GO TO SLEEP._

 **Dipper Pines | Sent 2:39:17**  
_Not until you tell me first, asshat._

 **Lord Bill Fuck Wad | Sent 2:39:27**  
_GO. TO. SLEEP. IM_ _NOT TELLING U THAT AGAIN._

 **Dipper Pines | Sent 2:39:36**  
_Thank you then. Answer me._

 **Lord Bill Fuck Wad | Sent 2:40:12**  
_GOOD NIGHT, PINE TREE._

Dipper made a frustrated noise out of the back of his throat. He considered calling Bill until he answered, but he didn't want to be that much of an ass either. So he let it go, just for now. It would be sooner or later Bill has to answer him. 

 **Dipper Pines | Sent 2:41:31**  
_Night, Bill._

Dipper knew nothing, absolutely nothing, about this man named Bill Cipher. And as much as he hated the guy, he wanted to know. He didn't know why, but he did.


	8. Don't Be so Pathetic, Just Open Up and Sing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some more world-building (as much world building a fanfiction could get anyway lol) + some bonding aaaye. Sometimes I get confused even with the AU in this, so pls tell me if there's any continuity errors rip.

> **APODYOPSIS** (n.) _the act of mentally undressing someone_

_A true gentleman does not mentally do this. They do it in reality._

* * *

****Kryptos nearly swerved into another car when their radio started blasting out a shrill tone, one that made Bill cackle in glee and his companion scream louder in protest. "I _told_ you not to play rising Shepard tones anymore!" he screamed. "I'm driving, my eyes are on the road, we're cool and collected- then you just gotta back stab me like this! No more aux cords for you!"

"Why not? It's my favorite song," Bill grinned. "It's going up forever and ever and ever- unlike your life, which is just descending into madness. No offense."

"Offense taken." Kryptos huffed, hunching over the steering wheel like a grandma at a stoplight. "Why do you have to do this to me? We were supposed to go out, get some drinks on your bank account's tab, have some _fun-_ now you're ditching me again for a guy who keeps cockblocking you?"

"He's not cockblocking me, he just needs time," Bill replied smoothly. He put his feet on the dashboard, letting the seat recline a little for comfort. His hands were nearly folded on his stomach. Today, he was suited up quite modestly. A pale pink dress shirt and breathable jeans, the most proper clothing he could find in his closet. For where he was going today, he certainly needed to dress appropriately. In fact, Bill had a feeling this is the first time in years he ever dressed according to weather than to impress, ever since his high school gym days. Now _that_ was a time of his life.

Meanwhile, Kryptos hummed at the steering wheel, breathing easily now that Bill's playlist was disconnected (which really was just one song, consisting of a ten hour version of his most favorite one of all time). The only downside was that there was no more music in the car. Just utter silence. "So..." Kryptos said awkwardly. "Have you and that boy been playing nice?"

"Are you my mom?"

"With what I have to deal with, basically yes!" Kryptos exclaimed offensively. "Driving you to places, driving you to the _same_ place every week, and even making sure you're not bullying some poor kid. Now, answer the question. I'm your taxi, I deserve to know."

"I'm only telling you this not because you deserve it, but because I'm bored," Bill said casually, picking at his teeth, "but eh. Dipper's fine with me. He's warming up. I could feel it. After we go on that field trip to the forest, I doubt he'll be hating me by the end of it."

"Field trip? What are you, twelve?" Kryptos scoffed. "See, I really _am_ your mom. Taking you to field trips, trying to hook you up with the cute boy in your class-"

"-I get it, yeesh," Bill interrupted, rolling his eyes at his mentor's incompetence. "You keep complaining like this and I won't let you borrow this car over the weekends for your stupid carpools."

Kryptos immediately shut up. See, money is power- and in that sense, Bill had _tons_ of power. His yellow Porsche they always take is just one of many cards Bill could afford and more. "You know," Kryptos said nervously, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, "what's your plan here, anyway? You told me you liked him. It's been weeks, Bill- when are you going to ask him out?"

"I already have. Got rejected. Never happening again, ya hear me?" Bill said dryly. "If you've seen him, you'd know he hates my guts more than the next guy."

"I wonder why," Kryptos said sarcastically.

"It's the middle of July and he doesn't get out of that support group until January or later, considering how much that kid behaves himself," Bill continued, completely ignoring his mentor's input. He waved a dismissive hand in the air as if dispelling any fumes from it. "I got time- _plenty_ of time, actually. I can wait." 

Kryptos shrugged at his explanation. At least he wasn't dumb enough to think that any advice coming from him would help Bill in any way. "Bill, I was wondering-"

"Keep _driving_ , Kryptos."

"No, but this is important. Really," Kryptos argued. Bill grunted in response, a solemn go ahead even though he knew it would be nothing of importance. "How do you... _really_ feel about him? All that 'I like him' bullshit? I don't think I really buy it anymore."

That...actually made Bill pause. It felt like he's already answered this so many times already. "Of course you don't buy it, you're not _that_ big of an idiot," Bill laughed. Out the window, men, women, and children of all ages gathered at sprinklers and shades they could find. It was a hot afternoon, that was for sure, and Bill grimaced at the thought of having to stay outside in the blazing weather for the sake of a boy he was infatuated with. Was he though? What _was_ he doing? "Kryptos, don't take this personally, but the kid's got nothing on me, a'right?" Bill continued easily. He turned his head from the window to his mentor. 

Kryptos frowned at that. Not those measly, little frowns Bill was so used to, but a deep one that made Kryptos actually look older than him. "Yeah, I could see that. But...what are you doing, Mr. Cipher? Are you trying to lure him into sex or what?"

"You know I can get that like two blocks from here, right?"

"That was an example. And no, you didn't need to point out the direction of the strip club, Bill." Kryptos laughed a little nervously. "I'm just asking. And I need to know if this actually helps you. What are your plans with that guy?"

Bill shrugged, but it was nothing else but an illusion to buy him more time to think. Because honestly, he could say that Dipper was intriguing all he wanted but that would never explain his goal. Every villain, every hero, and every civilian that ever lived had some sort of motivation of some form and that doesn't excuse him either. So what was it?

Where did Dipper Pines come into his grand scheme of things?

"Maybe you're just lonely."

The sudden notion jump started Bill back into reality, and he looked sharply over at Kryptos with a thin line on his lips. "Excuse you?"

"You're just lonely." Kryptos copied his carefree shrug, though it was clear that he kinda failed. Tense and hesitant. "You haven't had a date friend in like what- high school years? College years?  _Ever_? We humans are starved for touch, even by the cruelest of people." He said it as if he was proud of himself for saying something so intelligent. At least, intelligent in his eyes. 

"You sound like a Buddhist mentor," Bill mumbled. He propped his temple against the hot glass of the car, and exulted in the pain it spread through his head.

"But you're not denying it," Kryptos said smugly.

Bill didn't feel like arguing and yelling. So he stayed quiet. To Kryptos, unfortunately, found it as a defeat. "Look, we're almost there, Billy Boy," Kryptos added, and this time Bill almost _did_ yell at him for calling him such an infernal nickname. "Like, I don't understand why you have to pull up in Trust Falls. If you're going to the forest, why can't you just drive there and wait for the others?"

"Because you're a moron," Bill replied easily, unsticking his temple from the glass before it melded together, "number one, we're _covered_ in forests, dimwit. As much as Blubs wants to torture us by hiking through every square meter of trees, he can't and have to settle on a certain area. Number two, you're a dunce who can't understand that Blubs got us a bus to use. A dolt like you would know that would be a perfect opportunity to bother a certain brunet."

"I'm more impressed that you called me four different insults in the span of a few sentences," Kryptos said. The car was slowing down, Kryptos's eyes peering into the sea of parking lot spaces. Up ahead, a decently huge bus awaited. "That, and the fact you're doing a move only sixth graders would do. The good ol' sliding into their bus move."

"Hurry up, Kryptos," Bill hissed. "I want to get off this demented car with you as soon as possible."

"It's _your_ car!" Kryptos argued.

"And _you're_ in it!"

"Touche."

Kryptos found them a good parking spot near the bus, and Bill got out of the car as soon as the engine stopped. Bill barely heard Kryptos bid him goodbye before he walked away, knowing perfectly well that Kryptos could take care of himself. After all, he needed to take a stop to Trust Falls himself to report on Bill's 'improvement' so far. _Good luck bullshitting that,_ Bill snorted.

He was up and out of the parking lot, slipping past Blubs before the guy can come up and talk to Bill (therefore successfully wasting his time), and right into the bus. The thing was stout in size, the sides plastered with the service name "Speedy Beaver". With it being considerably comfy to fit in all passengers of a single support group, Bill didn't have to look hard to find his Pine Tree. A large lumberjack hat, greasy as it seemed from the heat, stood out from every person's headphones, snapbacks, and damp fuzzes of hair. 

He loosened his cuffs a little as he walked down the aisle, until eventually he caught up to the guy he was looking for. He sat down next to Dipper, exclaiming, "They should _really_ get an AC going in here, am I right? We're cookin' like bacon!"

Unamused and probably waiting for an entrance like Bill's, Dipper barely shot him a look before he continued looking out the window silently. Bill frowned, leaning forward to see if he was missing something outside that took Dipper's attention. All there was outside was a line of trees and cars, and the occasional person or people walking towards the hulking building of Trust Falls. Nothing interesting, and definitely nothing close to interesting as _he_ was. 

"Pine Tree," Bill whined. "Don't be such a sour ball. Chat with me."

"About what?" Dipper said boredly. Lazily, he gave in and looked at Bill. His arms were crossed just as lazily over his chest, and he looked just about ready to drop dead. Being the gentleman he was, Bill refused to open his mouth and point out the fact that Dipper looked beaten down. The last thing he wanted was for Dipper to drop out of their little conversation so early in the game.

"I don't know," Bill answered, an easy smile resting on his face now that he finally took Dipper's attention. "Anything you want, Pine Tree! What's on your mind today?"

"Kicking you out the window."

"Something not me related. As much as I want to talk about me, we can't always do that," Bill scolded. "How you feeling?" 

Dipper pursed his lips. His eyes scanned Bill for a once-over. The quiet chatter in the bus was all they could hear, plus the rumble of the engine that was soon to be out the road. "As always, I guess?" Dipper settled on, determining that Bill wasn't a threat for now. He rubbed the back of his neck tiredly. "I mean, the fact we have to stay in the heat longer than we have to isn't something to be looking forward to, but there isn't anything I can do in the complain department."

"I see," Bill agreed. He stretched out a little, glancing at the person entering the aisle and making a split decision to stick his foot out. When he did, the person tripped and immediately landed on a person that swore him out. He chuckled, and Dipper frowned at him. The tug of his lips looked familiar to Bill.

"You're very childish, you know that?" Dipper said.

"I know I am, ya got a point to make?" Bill laughed. He propped his elbow on the arm rest, then rested his cheek on his palm, looking straight at Dipper. "So- wanna be my partner for the scavenger hunt?"

"No," Dipper immediately said. "But I already know Blubs is going to force us together with your bratty excuses, so I don't have a say in that matter, really."

"Smart boy," Bill purred.

Dipper huffed a breath through his nose, turning his head back to the window. He rested his forehead against it, eyes cloudy with what ever fantasy he was dreaming up in his head. "Scavenger hunts, bagged lunches," he grumbled under his breath. "What do they think we are, nine year olds on a school field trip?"

"Well, Blubs _did_ say it was a field trip," Bill piped up happily. 

"Shut up, I'm trying to _think_!" Dipper snapped.

Bill went quiet, as requested. _Well, that wasn't nice,_ he thought sulkily. 

A moment soon after or more, Dipper closed his eyes and took a deep breath, unfolding his arms yet again to scratch that itchy spot in the back of his head and under his hat. "I'm- I'm sorry-" he said quietly, eyes flicking over to Bill, "I didn't mean to snap at you like that."

Bill tilted his head to the side. "Well, we certainly know who the adult is in our relationship, don't we?" he said with a light giggle escaping his lips. To him, honestly, a giggle was more carefree while a chuckle could be tight. Therefore, he giggled.

"As if we already didn't know," Dipper replied. He still sounded tired. At least, more tired than he usually was. Blubs had finally come into the bus, announcing loudly that they were departing now. The rumble got louder to back up his statement, and nearly everyone in the bus cheered. Probably because the sun was now directing itself into the direction of the standalone bus, and now they got to move out of it. Dipper and Bill chose to be silent ones, both of them looking out the window to watch their transportation move out from the parking lot and into the highway.

Their silence was filled with the chatter around them, now animated that they were on the move. They were promised with a scavenger hunt, a bagged lunch to serve as their time off, and some fishing by a nearby lake. No project, no deadlines. Bill could see why everyone took today as the most easygoing session as of yet.

Bill tried to get Dipper to talk a couple times, but the stubborn brunet didn't do anything to try and press their conversation. Just some "mhm"s and "yeah"s were scattered between them, but that was about it. Bill stopped bothering him halfway through the bus ride, realizing that he can't really annoy a person who was practically dead to the world already. So instead he turned to the people across from him, and went from there. When he did, he saw Dipper's tense shoulders relax, and Bill took that as a personal offense. They'll get there soon enough, and Bill made it his mission to annoy the fuck out of Dipper.

And they did get there. Faster than he could comprehend, really. Just a couple debates over the prices of black market livers and saving the bees later, and Blubs had blown a shrilling whistle to calm them down. Eyes turned to the group leader instantly, conversations dying out faster than MySpace ever did. Even Dipper had snapped out of his unlikely trance.

"Alright, alright, alright!" Blubs said excitedly. "I know it's hot as hell out there and that y'all feel like dying, but we can make it! We already gone through the plans briefly last session, but just in case you forgot, here's the routine; we split into partners, preferably with people you didn't go with last time, we all get a clipboard and pencil, and then we're off to scavenge all throughout the forest! Again, if you're not wearing any sunscreen or have a water bottle at hand, come and see me. After an hour, we'll come back to the point shown on the map under your clipboard, and we'll have some good ol' lunch breaks. After  _that-_ fishing! Sounds like a plan?"

There was a chorus of half-excited yeahs. 

"Good, good! Out the bus and off you go!" And with that, Blubs was the first one off. Outside, his husband waited for him with an umbrella and some sunscreen, and Bill mentally cringed at the thought of a shirtless Daryl Blubs as Edwin spread some cream over his back.

Like a pack of teenagers finally being let loose, everyone piled off the bus and were taking clipboards and pencils from the carton outside the entrance of their transportation. Even adults with high responsibilities and with crippling depression, as Bill assumed, they _all_ needed at least one day where they could pretend that it was summer break and school was still their most stressful duty. 

But then there was Dipper.

He sulked right behind Bill as Bill elbowed through everyone's faces to get the perfect clipboard and most sharpened pencil, eventually making his way back out with the dirtiest grin on his face. He directed Dipper and himself into the vast unknown of the forest, and Dipper said nothing of this command.

"First off the list," Bill said, tapping the side of the pencil against the wood of the clipboard, "we need to find a pine cone. Heh. Pine cone. Pine Tree." 

"There's pine cones everywhere, check it off," Dipper said monotonously.

Bill frowned, and did as told. He read over the rest, and stopped dead in his tracks. Dipper almost walked into his back, and expressed his complaints about it. Bill wasn't listening. "Are they serious?" Bill said, baffled. He tapped his pencil on the paper instructions. "'Find a unique leaf'? 'Find a nearby park and play on the swings a little'? What kind of scavenger hunt is _this_? We can literally just check this all off and call it a day!"

"Well, what do you expect us to do for the next hour, Captain?" Dipper said sarcastically. He looked over Bill's shoulder and then took the clipboard from his hands. Reading it over, he added, "I'm pretty sure the point of this is to have 'fun'. I mean, there's no prize or anything."

"No prize?" Bill exclaimed. " _Boo_! What game are we playing at here? This is nonsense!"

"Yeah, no kidding," Dipper laughed. He thrust the clipboard back into Bill's arms. "Just complete the scavenger hunt. It's the best we can do."

"What, should I call up my mommy and tell her I love her too?" Bill scowled. "Come on, Pine Tree, live a little! Let's do something else that _isn't_ on the list here," he drawled. To make his point, Bill tossed the clipboard and pencil to the ground, and buried it under piles of old sticks and leaves.

Dipper eyed Bill's grave for the clipboard a little, then looked back up at his partner. "Hey, I'm all up for the rebel stuff- I mean, who hasn't, when they were a teenager? But I don't see the point in-" Dipper said. There was a twang of nervousness in his tone. Bill almost snorted out loud. Once a nerd, always a nerd.

"Aw, don't be such a nerd, Nerd," Bill teased. He stomped out his hill to make it look natural against the other surroundings, so that no one could suspect that there was anything buried. You know, just in case. "We're in a _forest,_ Pine Tree. This is your home domain! Granted, I gave you the name, but you should be grateful. Now you belong somewhere! Also, we're not just in _any_ forest- we're in Gravity Falls territory. Wanna know how much weird shit goes down in here? Tons."

"They're just ghost stories, Bill," Dipper said, a tinge of annoyance in his tone now.  "My great uncle Ford tried looking. He said-"

"By the way, is Stan alive?" Bill interrupted.

"I- what?" Dipper stuttered.

"Stan. Your other great uncle. The punchy guy. He alive? Or dead?"

"How did you...?"

"Hey, don't act like Stan was some secretive nerd like Fordsy," Bill said with a roll of his eyes. He turned to look at Dipper, who looked like at a loss for words. "Unlike _Ford,_ I mean, Stan didn't hole up for thirty years and come back as if none of us noticed. For your information, it was _Stan_ who ratted me out and lost me like, thousands of dollars and humiliated me to the point of _punching_ me as if it wasn't enough. I was eighteen! You really think I would forget my own ultimate loss at _eighteen_?" he snarled. His whole demeanor changed just like that. Like a candle, his happy-go-lucky persona changed into the one that made him feel more alive. Like the candle, there usually isn't a warning.

"Bill, for fuck's sake, that was _you_? How did I forget you?" Dipper said, exasperated. _Probably because your stupid great uncle told you to never speak of me again and you never even knew my name, but you know!_ Bill almost said. He held his tongue. "Look, Weirdmageddon caused the Mystery Shack was in debt, Stan needed to gamble. You knew the risks of gambling, so did he. And plus- you knew about Ford? Bill, how the ever-loving fuck did you-?"

"Everyone knew. Were you listening?" Bill snapped. He turned around, and marched away. As he suspected, Dipper followed suit like a toddler with their mom. Bill unbuttoned one of his many buttons, feeling the heat get to him. Thankfully, he knew the forest like the back of his hand. He knew where they could go for shade and cool wind. "Your family, Pine Tree- I can say for myself that not a single one of them I got along with. Ford was Fordsy. Stan cheated off my cash."

"Well, everyone used to get along with Mabel. So you're technically wrong."

"Just answer the question," Bill groaned. He stepped over the hidden stump he knew was there. "Is Stan alive, or not?"

Dipper paused. Bill could hear him hissing under his breath when he jabbed his toes against the stump, and prevented himself in the nick of time from guffawing. "See, the thing here is, well-" Dipper said, sounding already out of breath, "-I don't know. Okay? I don't know if they're dead. After- after Mabel they...kinda cut ties with everyone. They told me they were going back on the Stan O' War and they did but it- it wasn't like before, you know? I tried contacting them, through phone and through letters and through _everything,_ but they never answered me. My theory is that they died at sea but..."

"But what? You think they're not answering you on purpose?" Bill laughed a little.

"Actually, yeah," Dipper said quietly. "I mean...I didn't..."

"Sweet Moses, Pine Tree." He turned his head to look over his shoulder. "You actually think that?"

"What else do you want me to think?" Dipper snapped. He took the hat off his head to mess up his sweaty hair, shaking his head a little to move it around. "Bill, you- you knew what happened, didn't you?"

Bill shushed him. "Listen, kid. We'll talk when we get there. All this depressing crap is getting to my head," Bill said.

So Dipper became silent. So did he. They walked and walked under the baking sun, only getting their break whenever giant pine trees blocked the light for them, just for a little bit. When they got there, Bill declared it happily, and walked over to the driest spot he found. It was a couple yards away from the water, the shade of the gigantic trees letting the wind hit their sweaty backs. Bill slumped against the tree, watching as Dipper did the same thing, right beside him. They were panting, neither of them not sporting the water bottles Blubs warned them to take.

"When you said..." Dipper began awkwardly.

"I was eighteen." Bill shrugged simply. "I was young, and stupid- extremely stupid. Even doing it during Weirdmageddon- holy shit, Pine Tree, you should've _seen_ me! I acted like I owned the place, which technically I did. Oho, I loved seeing that Preston guy look _scandalized_ when he realized he had to move out his mansion because the press saw him begging for my allegiance."

Dipper shook his head, laughing at that. "It was you this whole time. If I had known it was you this..."

Bill nearly frowned at that. But then he smiled, when he realized what Dipper meant. Right, right. "Do you believe me _now_ when I toldja I was a millionaire?"

"Bill Cipher, Gravity Fall's biggest gambler and heartthrob," Dipper drawled, "how _do_ you do it, Mr. Cipher?" Bill couldn't help but laugh at that. "Hey, Bill?"

"Yep?"

"What were you doing during Weirdmageddon? Other than the gambling."

"So curious of my personal life, I see. I like your initiative to take ourselves to the next level, Pine Tree!" Bill winked, which looked like he was just closing his eye. "It didn't impact me as much as the others. In fact, I _strove_ in it. That much destruction and chaos for a psychopath like me made me giddy inside. Funny how most of the damage ended when good ol' Stan punched me in the face, huh? I'm like a god!" He wasn't kidding. Right after the Great and Powerful Bill Cipher (yes, with capitals) was torn down by media, rumors, and most of all Stan Pines, Weirdmageddon stopped. The forest fires were nothing but heavy smoke, the tsunamis stopped, the water came back, and earthquakes never happened again. No one ever heard his name again. They didn't have to anymore.

"Don't be such a narcissist," Dipper laughed. He wrapped his arms around his knees, curling himself into a little ball. He was looking at Bill, his cheek resting on his knee. "I hated Weirdmageddon," he admitted quietly. "It scared me so much. The floods and the earthquakes and just- _everything._ How did everything go down to shit with just a pair of matches in the forest?"

Bill had never heard Dipper sound so much like a kid. It hurt his chest a little. Like a tiny squeeze of the stomach and chest. Was he guilty? He could be. It was his fault, after all, that he made Dipper and so many others look like this. But he couldn't say that. "You were twelve," Bill said bluntly. "You were the kid always hanging out with that redhead chick in Stan's old Mystery Shack, weren't you? I broke your laptop by accident when I dropped by the gift shop, remember that?" He did it when Dipper refused to give him the location of Mabel's puppet show, telling Bill off that he looked too creepy to watch his sister's play. A brotherly loving thing to do, but Bill got a little too pissed off.

"Uh- yeah. Yeah." Dipper bobbed his head a little awkwardly. "God, I hated you. It wasn't even _mine,_ I was trying to open Ford's laptop."

Bill laughed. Ford Pines. From what he remembered, the poor guy had to enter into a psych ward for thirty years. Worst than Trust Falls, if you asked him. "We live in a small world, don't we?" Bill hummed. He looked up at the tree above them, and how the sunlight barely filtered in through the pinpricks of the pine tree. "I'm sorry about that, by the way." He wasn't.

"Thanks. Ford said there wasn't much in there anyway."

"If Stan _is_ alive and you catch him, tell him I have no hard feelings either." Another lie.

"I will," Dipper promised. He moved his head and propped his chin on his knees instead, looking out into the river that reflected the sunlight with glittering patterns. It looked almost unreal. They had gone quiet again. Bill didn't like the quiet. 

"You miss her, by any chance? At all?" Bill finally decided to say.

Dipper blinked, a breathless laugh escaping his lips and rocking his shoulders. "You don't even know the half of it," he mumbled. "I couldn't even bring myself to tow Stan's old car. I didn't move from bed for three months."

Oh. That's why, then. He misses her. Dipper closed his eyes, and buried his nose into the crook of his arms and knees. Bill took his chances and put his head on Dipper's shoulder. They looked close from someone else's perspectives. Bill kinda wished it was true. Just kinda. 

"Look," Dipper began thickly, clearing his throat, "I'm sorry if I uh, seem out of it today. I couldn't- I didn't have enough sleep last night."

"With how heavy your eye bags were even before today, I doubt you ever get sleep anyway."

Dipper actually chuckled at that. "Yeah. Actually, sleeping is the problem for me. My doctor prescribed me some sleeping pills -as if I don't already take enough pills as I already have to- and well, frankly, they worked."

"I don't get it. Why is that a bad thing?"

Dipper didn't speak at that.

"Dipper. Why is that a bad thing?" he pressed. Only because he genuinely curious. He glanced up at Dipper's face, and saw him looking back into the lake, a blank slate on his lips. 

"I had a nightmare about Mabel again. It's the same every night, but this time, I just..." He shrugged. Helplessly.

"And so?" Bill didn't mean it to sound so cold. 

"Hey, I-" Dipper cleared his throat again, clearly uncomfortable. Bill moved off his shoulder before he could ask or notice. "Sorry, just- if you don't- you know- wanna talk about this, I'm more than glad to move past the subject. Sorry-"

"You say sorry a lot, you know that?" Bill said, sounding as if it was a scolding than a statement. He grinned like a wolf to show Dipper he was still playful. "No one is making you apologize, Pine Tree! Only an axolotl can judge ya right here! I didn't mean to sound like that. What I was _trying_ to say is...why did it make you wanna stay up?"

"You're kidding, right?" Dipper looked at him, a little perplexed. "Bill, you make it sound like you never had a nightmare in your life."

Bill just stared at him. 

"Bill. No. No way. That's the weirdest thing ever. That's a lie, I refuse to believe you were serious." Dipper was looking at him as if he was an anomaly. And no, it wasn't a big deal, of course it wasn't. But the last person to look at him like the others was Dipper and he- _damn it._ Why is he so angry over this?

His blood boiling under the surface, Bill had to look away from Dipper and got up. That candle was out again. "Bill, where are you- where are you going?" He didn't respond to that. Not right away, anyway. How odd did he seem to Dipper now? One moment, they were happily chatting away like old buds, and the next Bill was walking away. Bill wanted to understand why he kept doing this. He liked talking to Dipper. 

Finally, with the boil finally out of his system, he held up a hand and beckoned Dipper lazily, saying simply, "Ice cream."

Dipper was already behind him by then. "Sometimes I feel like you're are a literal five year old," Dipper said accusingly. 

"Says the one coming with me. You can't resist the ice cream, Pine Tree!" he exclaimed.

Rolling his eyes, Dipper walked closer to his pace so they were side by side. He rubbed at the back of his neck again, looking both puzzled and disgruntled by the fact that they had to get up from their oh-so comfy position under the tree so quickly. Bill wanted to grin, but he knew that the simple of act of a smile on his face was torture for his poor Pine Tree. And as much as he didn't understand why Dipper was so upset (and why _he_ was too), he was trying to make it better. 

"Why are we...getting ice cream again?" Dipper asked him hesitantly.

"Ever heard of the spur of the moment things, kid?"

Dipper shot him a look. "In fact, I did," he said indignantly. He dropped his arm back to his side, letting it hang and swing back and forth. "But you kinda just blew me off there, Bill. Are you mad at me?"

Bill paused and pondered, humming a little under his breath. " _Well_ ," he stretched out. "Depends! I also didn't take you for the type to be so self-conscious about pleasing me!"

"For fuck's sake- _no,_ " Dipper declared. His nose twitched a little and this time Bill couldn't help but sneer. "I just wanted to confirm that you were mad so I could do my happy dance. Duh." Bill laughed at that for real. It was good natured, he could tell, but the snark under it was detectable. He _loved_ it. Probably why he hadn't gotten bored of their antics yet.

"It's funny how after a deep talk like the one we just had could end in such peasantry traditions as ice cream," Bill drawled in a posh tone. "The next thing you know, we'd be swapping saliva one minute and then eating fudge cakes the next."

"Swapping sal-? Oh." Dipper's face blanked. Then his little buttoned nose wrinkled. "You're very egotistical, has anyone ever told you that?"

"Plenty! Why'd you ask?" Bill said happily. "So ice cream?"

Dipper, for once, didn't look suspicious of Bill's peace offering. Maybe it was because he was too hot and desperate for ice cream. Or thought that this was Bill's way of showing a settlement between them for once. Either way, Bill was grateful. He didn't feel like dealing with Dipper's prodding questions or more of the sappy stuff they dodged by half an inch during their talk. He just wanted ice cream to give him that numbing sensation in his brain. Man, did _that_ feel good. The ones who say that brain freezes were undesirable are just wussies. 

"Fine. Why not." Dipper shrugged. He finally took the wretched hat off his head and tucked it under his arm. "You're paying though."

"What? Why?" Bill complained.

"Because you're a dick."

"A very big dick," Bill purred. Before Dipper could push him into the water trailing along beside them, Bill added, "I'll only pay if you tell me about that nightmare of yours."

"Any reason why?"

"I find it hard to believe a know-it-all like you would be frightened by a simple triggered projection of the human mind. I wanna know." It came off a little whiny. 

But oddly, Dipper smiled. It was a curl of the lips, and it didn't look like a typical smile, but Bill still counted it. "You're so weird, Bill," he teased. "But sure. I heard talking about dreams actually make them better to bare with. I mean- that's me assuming it's true but, uh..." Bill's phone buzzed in his pocket with the same pattern he set for good ol' Kryptos. He merely took it out and declined the call, putting it back in his pocket with an innocent smile at Dipper. Of course, any smile of his would never turn out looking innocent, but a man can try, can't they?

"Who was that?" Dipper asked him curiously.

"No one. No one at all," Bill said casually. Though he had a feeling that came out as cryptically as all his assurances always were. But nevertheless, spending time with a pine tree was an afternoon everyone would need to have at least once. "So, have you ever heard of a Shepard tone?"

Dipper went bug-eyed. There was an aura around him again, one Bill faintly remembered. The little halo and atmosphere of a child. The hyperactive, excited, on-an-thrilling-field-trip kind of young. And for some godforsaken reason, it made Bill smile as Dipper rambled on, only partially listening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Iffff you're still a little confused whichihopeyou'renot (and because I need a reference myself) lemme expand on what Dipper and Bill were talking about, AKA this AU's version of Weirdmageddon (it's not that complicated, promise):
> 
> -Dipper knew Bill when he was 12 from just one incident when Bill tried asking Dipper where the directions for Mabel's show was (bc he was genuinely curious ok) but Dipper was a Big Bro™ and told him off which caused Bill to be Anger™ and smash his computer in front of him, not meeting again until now (no bipper here I'm sorry ;-;;;)  
> -Weirdmageddon begins with Mabel and Bill as in canon [Le spoilers, not telling how exactly yet]  
> -Natural occurrences weren't their fault, but the forest fires were (tsunamis etc. caused by chain-link event from the fire)  
> -La ta doo, Gravity Falls is NOT having a fun week lol  
> -Mystery Shack is in debt because of Weirdmageddon, so Stan gambles (yay?)  
> -He gambles against Bill, Bill loses and Stan is hailed a hero bc Bill's a righteous gambler dick  
> -For some reason??? Weirdmageddon??? Stops???? *Gasp* (it's not a supernatural thing that is literally it)
> 
> Alright I'll stop I'm sorry was that too much is this too confusing godihopenot ;v;


End file.
